Dream A Little Dream For Me
by FireCracker2000
Summary: The Dream Trilogy, Part 2. When Harry crossed into a parallel universe last year he changed everything, for both realities. Now he and Draco are reunited, boundaries between worlds are weakening, and trouble is brewing in the air.
1. Sleeping Awake

Chapter One -

Sleeping Awake

Even with his eyes closed, he could still tell quite clearly where the beast was. It was right behind him. Holding his breath, Harry pushed himself into the wall of the hideous auditorium. The hilt of the sword in his hand was slick with sweat, and the other boy's command's to the approaching giant snake rung through the hall, a dangerous note of desperation working into the words. Harry could also talk to the snake, they both had realised, and the other boy was not happy at all about it. With the arrival of the sword, there had also come a bird, which circled the great serpent monster as Harry ran blindly from the beast. It howled out in pain, and Harry couldn't help but take a quick look at what was happening; the other boy screamed instructions for it to leave the bird and go instead for Harry, but too late, the damage had been done. The creature was now blind.

Harry could open his eyes freely now, and he darted with the jewelled sword at the beast. Its head snapped this way and that, giant fangs flashing in the dim torch light, avoiding the blade, aiming for Harry as he ran across the hall, trying to reach the red-headed girl lying beneath the tremendous statue of someone Harry couldn't help but feel was oddly familiar. Its gaping mouth surged forward and Harry lunged with the blade, a desperate cry emanating from his throat. But as the blade pierced the creature's head, its jaw clamped down, and one long and slender fang drove into Harry's shoulder, filling his body with deadly poison and searing pain. And Harry screamed, and screamed, and he realised with complete and utter certainty that very soon, he was going to die…

---

He hit the floor with a considerable amount of pain, taking the vast majority of the bed-spread with him. Panting, Harry flung his arm up to the bed-side cabinet, grabbed his wand and cried "Lumos!" into the darkness. It was just a nightmare, he told himself as his breathing gradually slowed down, just another nightmare.

But are they really though? he thought as he looked round his shadowy bedroom, still jittery from the dream of the serpent and its master. Are they only dreams? He ran his free hand over his throbbing forehead; he was sick of it now. Standing, he crossed his bedroom and looked out of the window onto the garden below, especially dark in the early morning hours before dawn. Deep down, he knew they were not only dreams.

Months ago now, but still only less than a year ago, Harry had collapsed in his kitchen, completely blacked out after a party. When he'd woken up, he assumed he'd just had too much to drink, but he soon found out that was not the case. He'd been gone over a day, and in that time so much had changed that he couldn't quite believe that was all the time that had past. Not only that, but it seemed that he hadn't really been gone at all.

Some impostor, he thought bitterly as he lent against the sill, had taken his place and in a matter of twenty-four hours turned his life upside down. He remembered vividly coming to on the floor, a vague impression of seeing himself walking towards a bright light flashing briefly before his eyes, and then his mother rushing over and grabbing hold of him, demanding to know if he was alright. Sirius was standing there, a haunted look that Harry had never seen the like of before on his face; that was when Harry began to realise that all was not right with the world.

He pushed himself angrily away from the window and paced over to his wardrobe door, snatching the handle to look in the mirror and lifted his fringe.

There was the scar.

A bloody great bolt of lightening slashed across his forehead as a permanent reminder of every horrid thing that happened in his absence. Wherever he went now, he would be stopped in the street, gawped at by complete strangers asking to know what happened, how he defeated You-Know-Who. And Harry would never be able to give them a satisfactory answer, because the truth was, he honestly didn't know.

No one ever asked about Seamus, he thought resentfully as he crossed the room and threw himself back on the bed. That had been the thing he'd been the most resistant to believe. He could maybe understand the Dimensional Hotspots and Alternate Realities after Sirius explained them to him and showed him the books to prove it. He was able to come to terms with the idea of facing You-Know-Who after Sarah's first hand account of the whole affair, perhaps even understand that he was finally gone from the mass jubilation that ensued. But Seamus - Seamus was really dead? He did not even begin to comprehend the notion until he saw him at the wake in Ireland, so still and tranquil in that coffin. He'd lost it completely when they closed the lid and finally lowered him into the ground; his anger and rage spilt out in a flow of unrestrained remorse, frustration and bitterness, and he'd run from the cemetery, run without knowing where he was going, only stopping when he was physically sick and could go no further.

Parvati; she was a wreck, almost a completely different person that Harry had to pry open and console, almost for his own benefit as much as hers. She was the only one he trusted, the only one who could share the experience on the same level as him, the only one who truly understood the loss in the same way. Dark circles hung below her haunted eyes and she had blatantly lost a great deal of weight. They had spent most of the summer together, and she would wake in the night from her bed screaming about the horrors she had witnessed, only to be consoled by Harry who would leap from his place on the floor and hug her until the crying stopped. But even then, he was only of so much use, because he could not share in her pain as he had no memories of his own, only be sympathetic to her after she described the events that had taken place in Germany.

Sarah was not quite as bad; she had not fought in the battle after all. She rarely slept at all though and refused to ever have the lights off; Harry felt her fear of the dark would probably never leave her. He often found her wandering the house in the middle of the night, normally reading in the living room, soft, almost inaudible, music playing from their mother's enchanted record player. In the early months, she would try and talk to Harry about what happened in the circular room with You-Know-Who, ask him why Peter betrayed them and how was he able to defeat the Dark Lord.

Both of the girls had become quickly despondent with insistence he couldn't remember a thing.

That was almost what he was most cut up about; the fact that no one had realised he was gone. Not one single person, apart from Sirius right at the very end, had even an inkling that Harry had departed from his own body, only to be replaced by some…fraud, some trickster who seemed to think his life wasn't enough of a screw up - oh no. He had to come and mess with Harry's own as well.

And for all that time, Harry had no idea what had happened to him. The thought that he had disappeared entirely from this plane of existence was almost too terrifying to think about, but given the fact that he couldn't remember a thing of what happened in that time seemed to point to it as the obvious conclusion. Had he been dead? Was he in Heaven, or yet another dimension? Or was he really just…nowhere? He guessed he would probably never know; no one else seemed to have an answer for him after all, not even Sirius, who had become the self-proclaimed expert on the whole affair.

And now the intruder was gone, Harry was left to cope with the raging after-math that remained. Of course, there was the frustrating and rather annoying newly acquired and undeserved fame for which there was no dispersing, but there were far more serious matters to be dealt with as well. Seamus' death was the obvious starting point, and the effect events had taken on family and friends; his parents, Remus and Parvati. But then there was the knowledge that this impostor had branded about during his short stay in their world. Muggle born witches and wizards were flying out of the woodworks, demanding to be educated. Everyone knew he was the Heir of Gryffindor and expected him to walk on water or some other such rubbish. And even though it appeared that You-Know-Who had been banished to the great beyond, apparently this other Harry had left with grave tidings of his return and none of the details of what to do about it should it happen. Typical.

Then there were the dreams. At first, they were no more than random flashes of images working into Harry's own sub-conscious world, but then they progressed to fully fledged narratives, repeating night after night, all horrifying in their own special way. There would be battles, such as the one with the giant snake, or in graveyards, or against dementors. There would be a gripping sensation of loss running throughout these dreams, and the worst of them all was of himself, staring incessantly into a mirror at his family as if that was the only way he could reach them. Harry would wake from that dream in a cold sweat, the need to vomit overwhelming. That was the dream he dreaded the most.

In all these dreams, Harry was himself, possessing an understanding of the events unfolding that would vanish from his mind as soon as he woke. And gradually he began to realise that the dreams were not the imaginative result of his over-stressed mind venting in the only way it knew how; no, they were too precise for that. They were memories.

His memories.

Gradually, it became evidently clear that not only had this interloper invaded Harry's life and wrecked it almost beyond recognition, he had left echoes behind him to resonate through Harry whilst he slept, torture him almost.

He couldn't bring himself to tell anyone, not even Sirius. His pride told him that this other Harry could try all he liked, but he wasn't going to let him affect his life any further than he already had. An easy moral to have in the day; harder when he was once again sat wide awake in his bed in the middle of the night staring at shadows and trying not to think of the mess his life had become.

Oh and God save us tonight, as if that wasn't enough, there was another bloody plot-twist thrown in at the last minute. It seemed the impostor, as well as saving the world, had a busy time making friends in Harry's absence. There was a muggle born witch who apparently, for some reason, knew everything about the alternate dimension problem and had somehow got herself tangled up in the whole business, and now felt she had some sort of unfounded connection to Harry. But oh, it got worse.

It had been Draco Malfoy who had started the whole shebang by arriving at Harry's front door step in the dead of night announcing he wanted help. Harry's help. The other bloke must have been a complete nancy, Harry thought; he himself would have vaporised the Slytherin where he stood, not listened to his rubbish for half an hour meaning Sarah ended up a Death Eater hostage and poor Seamus six feet under. And as for this 'I'm redeemed, my daddy made me do it' bullshit - well, Harry was having none of it. He was and forever would be a Malfoy; by very definition someone Harry would hate with a passion cooled only in death.

He hated everything he represented, which was rather unfortunate for Harry as it turned out, as most others took his supposed defection as genuine. Parvati still loathed him almost as much as Harry, blaming him for Seamus' fate, wishing it had been him in his place. But Sarah had a great deal of admiration for him, as did Remus and his parents. Sirius seemed to take a particular liking to the boy, and he and Lily between them had practically adopted him.

Hence, he was now living at Godric's Hollow. Right above Harry's own bedroom in fact.

Having no family to speak of as such, it had been decided that the Potter's had more than enough space and owed the safe return of their daughter, at least in part, to him. He had therefore moved in at the beginning of summer; Harry had barely spoken more than half a dozen words to him in that time and certainly never socialized with him. It was, in his opinion, unforgiving that a Malfoy had been welcomed into their home with such open arms, as if he had never betrayed them in the slightest. Harry had had issues with Sirius about the apparent lack of judgment as well, but he had been more easily forgiven, being his Godfather and all.

Tired beyond comprehension with the weight of his woes, Harry laid back into his pillows once more, wand still firmly grasped in his hand, and tried to concentrate on sleep; tomorrow was an important day after all, and he wanted to feel prepared for what lay ahead. Forget the past, live for the future, he told himself as his eyelids drooped heavily once again. For it does not do to dwell on dreams…

---

Sarah Potter froze suddenly where she stood; halfway down the top flight of stairs at Godric's Hollow. There was movement in Harry's bedroom. After a moment or two though, it appeared that he was just having another one of his dreams as all went still once more. Sarah slowly let out the breath she had been holding and carried on walking silently down onto the landing, and then down the next flight of stairs into the entrance hallway.

She rarely slept anymore, not after what had happened last November. When she did doze off, she would wake only hours later from horrendous nightmares about You-Know-Who and the battle she saw, and not be able to get to sleep again after that.

The lounge was dark and shadowy. Sarah would sometimes sit there by herself until morning broke; she would often find herself falling into a deep sleep under the shining beams, if only for a hour or so, that would get her through the day. Tonight though, she didn't fancy it, so instead made her way to the kitchen with half a mind on finding something with little calorific value to munch on.

A sense of movement caught her attention just as she was about to reach up for a jar of Honeyduke's finest chocolate covered jelly-babies. She froze for a second time that night and listened.

Very faintly, she could hear a sort of tapping or thudding coming from the family room. Lowering her arms, she gingerly felt for her wand in her dressing gown pocket. Upon finding it, she trod softly on the ceramic tiles and over to the family room door in the hallway. She very slowly edged the door open and peered into the gloom; what she saw struck her as quite a curious sight.

Draco Malfoy, their new houseguest, was sitting at the shining black grand piano, playing something with his eyes shut, just letting his fingers glide methodically over the keys as if they were made only of glass. He had obviously performed a silencer charm on the piano, as all Sarah could hear was the soft thud, thud, thud as the cloth covered hammers hit the stings in the belly of the instrument. She stepped cautiously closer to the young man, and obviously walked through the bubbled skin of the charm, as suddenly the air was filled with the melodious writings of Beethoven.

"The Moonlight Sonata," she breathed quietly.

Although he didn't seem too shocked or surprised, Draco lifted his hands from the keys, still resonating from his touch, and turned to face the young Potter girl. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked, but there was no malice to his tone.

Sarah shrugged. "I don't sleep much any more."

Draco chuckled quietly to himself. "I noticed," was all he said, before he turned away from her once more and ran his slender right-hand fingers across the white notes of the keyboard.

"That was beautiful playing," said Sarah, stepping closer once again. "I didn't think you knew how - you've never done it before."

"It's all I can do," replied the blond boy, almost apologetically. "My mother taught it to me years ago - I can't read music or anything. I wanted to try before…tomorrow. And I'm not half as good as you are," he added as an after thought.

Sarah stepped so she was now leaning against the reflective black surface of the piano and looked at Draco. "That's okay," she told him, "you don't really need to know much else - that piece suites you perfectly." She purposefully ignored the part where he said she was a good player, as she blatantly knew that was a load of codswallop.

Draco smiled again and continued staring at his fingers, lightly tracing along the keys. Sarah got the impression that he was not unhappy to have her company, just didn't know quite what to make of her. That was fine by her; she would stay and do all the talking. She felt it was about time they got to know each other anyway.

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?" she asked, perching on the end of the rather long piano stool.

Draco scoffed, then bit his lip. "Terrified," he admitted to the young girl.

She nodded. "Me too." She thought for a moment, then added; "But you should be okay - I mean, at least you've done it before."

"I think that's what scares me the most," was his only reply.

---

The muggle train screamed as it tore through Kings Cross station, making Draco shudder as he stared apprehensively at the barrier between platforms nine and ten not four feet in front of him.

"Go on, Son," said Sirius reassuringly, and gave him a small nudge in the back. Draco took a deep breath, closed his eyes, then started to walk towards platform nine and three-quarters, squashing the wave of nausea that was rolling up from somewhere around his stomach region.

Feeling he was on the other side, he peeked between his eyelids to witness the madness unfurling beside the brilliant scarlet form of the Hogwarts express.

"They are all going to despise me," said Draco softly under his breath, just as Lily and Sarah came flying through the wall to screech to a halt beside him.

"That was fantastic!" cried Sarah, and, after a moment's pause; "can we do it again?!"

"Absolutely not," cried Lily, obviously a little stressed out and taking her daughter's joking too seriously. She scanned the crowds, presumably for familiar faces, and Draco took the opportunity to give Sarah a quick reassuring glance which she returned; they were in this together after all.

Next through were Harry and a rather ruffled looking Parvati Patil. Once they had recovered their balance, they both graced Draco with a particularly scathing look, then walked off.

Finally came James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. They tumbled through with an air of confidence at having preformed the task many times and grinned broadly as they brushed down their clothes and looked up at the train.

"God - it's as magnificent, as always," said James.

"Seems smaller," said Sirius, almost offended. "And look at all these people - there never used to be this many before."

"Bless you Sirius," was all James said to his best friend as he laid a strong hand on his shoulder and continued to marvel.

Remus was round eyed and had his hands in his pockets. "Seems odd without…"

"Yeah," said James, knowing what Remus was going to say. "I guess it's just the three of us now."

The remaining marauders looked solemn, and Draco turned his gaze from them. It wasn't his fault that the fourth marauder, Peter Pettigrew, had turned out be a traitor, but he was the one to break the news to them after Harry's outburst last November, and he felt…responsible.

Ha! thought Draco, Harry. It wasn't really Harry though, was it? Not the Harry from this world at any rate. Lily was fussing and started to herd the group towards the nearest entrance to the train, calling for Harry and Parvati to come and say goodbye to them. Draco kept his distance as the Heir of Gryffindor kissed his mother goodbye, and had to bite his lip to subdue the anger bubbling up inside himself.

He had talked at some length on the subject with Sirius, and had eventually learnt to accept that the Potter he was left with was not the one who had travelled through Germany with, who had effectively changed his life. No - this was the selfish, arrogant little schmuck that he'd gone to school with, and during the summer he had made it quite clear to Draco that no matter what his actions were during his absence, he would never be trusted, never be forgiven.

Draco felt betrayed. There was no other way to put it. The Harry he had met, really got to know, was the day to Potter's night. He accepted Draco's attempt at redemption, and, he believed, valued him as a friend when they last spoke. A real friend was something Draco had never really had before. He would never forget the rebuff he received from this world's Harry when they had met again for the first time after Germany. It had been at the discussion of Draco's living arrangement with Sirius at Malfoy Manor (why Potter had even come Draco still didn't know); he had almost not recognised Harry as he stood sulkily in their drawing room, arms crossed as he stood behind his Godfather's shoulder, emanating hate and mistrust. Even after Sirius had explained about the Alternate Reality it had taken Draco a good deal of time to shake that memory from his mind.

Of course, only those closest to the situation knew the truth; that there had been two Harrys. Their relationship was just another thing that people would be talking about now that school was back in session. Draco felt he might have refused to come back at all - too many confusing and troubling memories for everyone concerned - if it hadn't have been for Hermione.

Hermione! he thought with a rush; was she already here? Having deposited his heavy trunk (emblazoned with the Malfoy crest still), he said a heartfelt, but speedy goodbye to the party of well wishers. Lily told him to stay out of trouble, just as his own mother used to do, Remus shook his hand, as did James, who was the coolest of the group; leaning more towards Harry's view as he did that, after all, Draco was still a Malfoy, and caution should therefore be taken. The blond boy didn't mind though, as he received a bear hug from Sirius who told him not to take any crap from anyone; he'd made the right choice, and now the hard part was sticking by it. The affection in his words bought a sort of cold lump to Draco's throat; he wasn't used to the idea that he was allowed to show any kind of emotion after so many years living with his father, so brushed the feeling aside and thanked Sirius for all his hard work and consideration.

The final whistle blew, and the train jugged forwards, slowly gaining speed. Draco stood with Sarah and waved the people on the platform goodbye until they were out of sight. The young girl sighed, and dropped her hand by her side. "I guess that's it then," she said flatly. Draco nodded, but couldn't think of anything to say in response. "Erm-" said Sarah after a moment or two, "is it okay if I go and find Harry?" she asked Draco.

He couldn't help but smile. "Of course you can," he said, "I'm going to go find a friend anyway - I'll see you later." And with that they went their different ways.

---

It wasn't easy for Draco on the train. Any pure bloods from the fourth year up remembered his face and what he'd done four years ago to the school, and many of them were making damn sure Draco was going to remember as well. He couldn't really blame them, the things they were talking about were true after all, but it didn't make it any easier on him.

He kept his head down as he walked along the corridor, only looking up to check who was in each compartment as he came to them. He passed Harry, Parvati and Sarah about mid-way; they were deep in conversation and thankfully did not notice the blond boy as he made his way past.

There were a number of rather intimidated first years and muggle-borns wondering curiously about the place as well as Draco, and with the Indian summer rays beating down it was very hot in the carriages by mid-day. Draco still had not found Hermione, even though he had trekked through the entire train. Despondent, he began making his way back towards the front, when he heard someone call his name from behind.

Hermione Granger was walking towards him, her brand new Hogwarts robes billowing behind her. "Draco!" she said happily, "I've been looking all over for you." Draco though didn't say anything in response; he was a little distracted by her appearance.

The last time they had met, the muggle-born witch had been covered in muck, sweat and blood, clothes torn, hair awry and scared out of her wits. Now, her clothes and person were immaculately clean, her face was bright, and her hair was beautifully sleek and styled. He thought she was even wearing make-up. She reached him and raised her eyebrows, a little unsure at why he hadn't responded in any way. Recovering in true Malfoy style he ran his hand though his fine blond hair and said casually, "well look at you."

Hermione beamed. "You're not looking too shabby yourself - shall we go sit down?" Draco held out his arm like the gentleman that he was, and the two walked the short distance to the compartment she had to herself.

It was slightly awkward as they sat facing each other, and after a moment or two of being unsure what to say, Hermione started distractedly stroking a rather ugly ginger tabby-cat in a cage on the seat next to her. Draco, however, could never be doing with awkward silences, so lent on his knees and thought of something to say.

"How was school?" he asked, knowing she'd want to talk endlessly about it; she had done so in her letters at any rate.

"Oh it was just amazing!" cried Hermione, predictably excited by the question. "I met so many people, and the work was so _interesting_ - way better than maths and science." Draco grinned.

Not long after both he and Hermione had realised that the Harry they knew was gone, they had casually started exchanging letters. Initially, it was just a case of Draco sending an owl to check she was okay after everything that had happened, knowing she would have no one else to talk to about it, but they had kept in steady contact ever since. It had made both of them feel a Hell of a lot better starting at Hogwarts knowing there would be a friendly face when they got there.

Hermione though, like all the muggle-born students that had accepted their place at Hogwarts after being told the truth, had had to attend summer school in London in an attempt to catch up. Draco knew from her letters that Hermione had had little trouble mastering the basics and beyond, and was more than ready to join in with her fellow sixth years this term. After all, Draco himself had had very little education since the close of the school three years ago, apart from in the dark arts of course, and people like Harry had been taught by their parents. There was a general consensus amongst the faculty that time would be taken to bring every one up to standard, and exams would not be worried about for the time being.

"Lavender took me shopping last week," said Hermione, trying to sound casual. Draco guessed she was talking about Lavender Brown - another muggle-born witch she had met in London. "She - uh, well kind of dragged me to the hairdresser and then through every single boutique she could find until we ran out of money."

Draco laughed. "I can tell," he said cheerfully, "you look great - the hair's completely different."

"Thank God," said Hermione, "the way I had it before was bad enough to break combs."

"Oh - I don't know," said Draco without pausing, "I thought it had quite an appealing rugged look." Hermione flushed slightly, but Draco didn't even blink; he was always brutally honest when it came to appearances.

---

The two talked at length until the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station. Draco flinched only slightly as the carriage jolted to a stop in the wizarding village, then stood elegantly up, brushing creases from his clothes rather than show any significant sign of nervousness. Hermione scooped up her new cat, Crookshanks, and peered out the window. "Should we get out?" she asked timidly.

Draco nodded. "We have to find the horse drawn carts…though, as I remember it, there aren't actually any horses."

Hermione arched one eyebrow apprehensively, and the pair slowly made their way off the train amongst all the other students doing the same thing. A booming voice Draco vaguely remembered as the grounds' keeper Hagrid was sounding out, telling the first years to go in one direction, the rest of the student body in another.

Hermione and Draco followed the swathe of students as they made their way to the carriages Draco had mentioned, but he, along with a number of other students, was rather shocked when he got there. The aging coaches, who's harnesses were normally suspended mid-air, were now each stood behind a sort of horse, except they were like no horse Draco had ever seen before. As far as he could tell these beasts were barely more than skin and bones; their coats were leathery looking and jet black all over, which only made their gleaming red eyes even more eerie. And then there were the wings stretched out to a great expanse, arching straight from the creatures' backs.

"What the Hell are those?" Draco breathed softly. It was an odd sight to behold; about a third of the student body were looking in apprehension at the demon horses before them; the rest were looking in apprehension back at the scared students.

"I thought you said there were no horses?" asked Hermione, confused.

"What are they?" said another girl near by, who Draco half remembered from Germany. There was a rather disgusted sound from their left, and Harry Potter pushed through the crowd towards the coaches.

"They're called Thestrals," he called out, just loud enough so most people around could hear him clearly. "You can only see them if you've seen someone die." And with that, he and Parvati ascended the steps, slamming their compartment door behind them shut.

Hermione gave a little shudder as people around them started talking once more and walking up to their own carriages; after all, if Harry Potter had done it, it must be safe enough? Draco let out a slow intake of breath and held his tongue. He couldn't help but feel that Potter's statement had been aimed directly at himself. He couldn't be bothered to ponder on it though, so he and Hermione chose a carriage and boarded it, soon to be followed by Draco's old friend Blaise Zabini and her younger brother, Armand.

They were quiet on the journey to the castle, thinking about numerous things. Draco himself was wondering whether or not Potter had seen the Thestrals; did it count that other Harry had been in Germany and not technically him? The only sound at all was when they rounded the corner from Hogsmeade, and there suddenly in the twilight was Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in all its splendour. Hermione couldn't help but cry out in awe at the incredible sight, and Armand, who had never seen the school before either, gave a similar exclamation.

At the front steps, all the students (and there were a great many of them) piled out to form a crowd in front of one of the old teachers. It took Draco a moment to remember her as Professor McGonagall, the deputy headmistress, which he then informed Hermione of.

"Good evening!" the older witch called out to the quietened down student body, "and welcome to Hogwarts. As you may well know, this year will be rather different than any previous ones for those who remember them. As per usual, we shall start with the Sorting ceremony, which divides students into one of the four houses of Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin or Gryffindor. However, this year it will be necessary to sort all students, not just first years. You will please be patient during this very important process and give all other students the respect they deserve. I will ask you now to separate into your year groups - second years at the front, seventh years at the back." She indicated where people should stand and then watched as the pupils arranged themselves accordingly.

Draco felt a sliver of nerves ripple down in his stomach. He assumed only new students would be sorted, and old ones would simply return to their old houses. He wasn't to keen on everyone watching him, 'the traitor', being publicly put back into the house renowned for it's dark magic; Slytherin.

He didn't say any of this though. He just gave Hermione a small smile as they slid into their place in the rather fat line that was developing. He had explained to her about Hogwarts' four houses in one of their letters, and assumed she would be an ideal candidate for Ravenclaw, but hadn't said this directly to her as he knew she would worry about such things.

They were eventually ready, and McGonagall, satisfied, turned on her heels and began leading them through the entrance hall into the Great Hall. There were four enormous tables laid before them and the first years were already there waiting nervously. The deputy headmistress organised the students into seven lines, dividing the year groups, then walked over to a stool with a patched and tattered hat sitting on it. The Sorting Hat, Draco thought with slight apprehension, before the old Malfoy reserve kicked back in. _C'est la vie_, he thought scornfully to himself; that was just the way it was, and if he thought about it, things could be a Hell of a lot worse than ending back up in Slytherin, so get over it.

Hermione was staring at the ceiling as the lazy summer evening blew by. "It's enchanted to look like the sky outside, isn't it?" she asked Draco quietly. He nodded in response, and she smiled a little broader. "I read about it, in _Hogwarts, A History_."

The Sorting ceremony took quite some time, just as McGonagall had suggested it would. But Draco found he wasn't actually that bored; it was quite interesting to watch all the new students being divided into the four houses. Halfway through the second years he began trying to guess which student would end up where as they stepped up to the stool and put the oversized hat on their heads. By the forth years, he was actually getting pretty good at it.

It came to the turn of the sixth years, and although the deputy headmistress' voice was growing slightly horse from reading name after name from the long roll of parchment she held in her hands, the enthusiasm from the houses was growing with their increasing numbers. Every time someone was allocated to a house, that particular table would erupt in cheers, house loyalty already being fiercely built upon.

The first girl to be called was Lavender Brown, Hermione's friend from summer school. She had the hat on her head for almost an entire minute before the frayed old thing called "GRYFFINDOR!" to the crowds. The table on their left burst into applause, and Draco could see Sarah Potter, who had already been placed into that house, cheering just as loudly as the rest of them.

There were a fair number of students to be called before Hermione finally took her place on the stool, and Draco was more than a little surprised when the hat cried out "Gryffindor!" once again shortly after she had placed it on her head. He managed a few half-hearted claps as she took her place, but stopped quite quickly with the frustrating thought that Gryffindors and Slytherins were renowned for their foul relationship together; he was fairly certain as Hermione was congratulated by Lavender that their friendship had been put to a premature end.

"Macintosh, Richard," was called and sorted into Ravenclaw, where he was congratulated by Terry Boot and another boy Draco either didn't recognise or couldn't remember, and then it was Draco's turn himself. With a resolute intake of breath, the young man looked straight ahead at the hat, ignoring the looks he was getting form various other students, stepped out of line, and went to face his judgment.

"Ah, Mr Malfoy," said the familiar wheezy voice as Draco slipped the hat over his head; it was definitely smaller than before, he thought, as now it barely covered his eyes. In his nervousness he didn't stop to rationalise that it might have been him who had grown, and not in fact the hat that had shrunk.

After a short while, Draco honestly began to wonder if the hat was actually broken it had been silent for so long, but after another moment or two it perked up once more. "Well this _is_ interesting," it muttered, "very…well yes - very surprising. I see plenty of determination and gusto, a need for appearances and also pride…but then there's…well…"

"What?" Draco couldn't help but whisper, "what's bothering you?" He was getting agitated by sitting there so long, fully aware that everyone would be looking at him.

"I guess you would call it…_courage_," said the hat, "a sense of _morality_."

"Courage?" repeated Draco before he could help himself, but it was too late. The hat opened its brim and shouted as loudly as it could;

"The best place for you seems to be _GRYFFINDOR! _"

About two thirds of the table by the red and gold banners burst into applause to welcome their new house member, and a good half of the remaining students clapped politely as well. But there were a number of pupils, who like Draco himself, were stunned into complete silence.

The hat was taken off his head by the deputy head, who was smiling curiously at Draco. "W-what?" he managed to stammer to the professor. "I'm in…what?"

But McGonagall only smiled further. "Master Malfoy," she said quietly, "it is important to remember that the hat looks at who you are, and not what your name is. Now if you would kindly take your seat, we can continue."

Slightly flummoxed, by Malfoy standards at any rate, Draco left the stool and walked not to the right, but the left of the Hall to join the Gryffindors sitting there. Hermione was thrilled and gave him a huge hug as he lowered himself into a seat; but as she threw her arms around his neck and squealed, Draco got a perfect view of Parvati and Harry, standing side by side waiting to be sorted, looking murderously in his direction. Draco gave them half a sheepish smile, before turning away from them. After a time, they were both sorted back into Gryffindor as expected, but sat far away from the former Slytherin, and thankfully did not speak to him the entire evening.

---

The first week of term went by rather uneventfully when Draco thought about it. Of course it was very, very odd going back to the Gryffindor dorms after classes and not the Slytherin dungeon (as he had actually found himself doing on more than one occasion.) Apparently old habits really did die hard. Classes were slightly changed; Snape no longer taught Potions as he was still working for the Order of the Phoenix (much to Sirius' disgust Draco remembered with a smile), so instead they were taught by a witch called Professor Haines, who was actually very good, thought Draco. Hermione of course, was keeping up remarkably well; possibly even better than Draco himself, though he couldn't bring himself to say it, not even to her. Defence Against the Dark Arts was taught by a Professor Bashir, after it had been revealed that Professor Quirrell had secretly been working for Voldemort for years. Remus had been offered the job, but he hadn't wanted it for the same reason as Snape. Herbology and Ancient Ruins had also been assigned new teachers to the ones Draco remembered, as the former teachers had unfortunately died in the war, and Care of Magical creatures had been cancelled all together as a suitable replacement had not been found after Professor Kettleburn's retirement.

Half of Gryffindor's lessons were with Slytherin, which was very confusing for Draco in many ways. Luckily he had Hermione to help him, and he had also become quite friendly with a muggle born named Dean Thomas. Draco had known quite a lot about the boy before they had even met because of his training with the Deatheaters, but he hadn't let Dean know that. Harry and Parvati were going out of their way to ignore Draco, and were also trying to persuade Dean and Lavender to do the same; both students had thankfully, for Draco, chosen not to take sides and were friendly with all.

Draco spent the majority of his time with Hermione. They studied together and sat together in most classes; he helped her to understand the wizarding world, she helped him with his homework. They were interested in many of the same things and both spoke fluent French. Even though they had been in constant contact over the summer, it was only really now they were getting to know each other, starting to appreciate just how similar they really were.

It was therefore not so surprising that when Draco ascended the staircase up to the top of the North Astronomy Tower on their first Saturday night, who should be up there already but Hermione herself. She did however jump out of her skin when Draco pushed the heavy oak door to and made it creak loudly. She clutched her heart as Draco too jumped back, and she hissed with half a smile; "what on Earth are you doing here?"

After taking a moment to compose himself, Draco smiled back. "I was going to ask you the same thing," he replied evenly as he shut the door and walked over to the ledge his housemate was leaning on. The night was cooler than previous ones, and their breath was escaping from their mouths as soft, thin wisps of smoke. Draco let a small laugh fall from his lips, accompanied by a misty breath, and lent on the cold stone edge of the wall. The view over the school grounds was truly magnificent from up here, he thought; how I've missed this sight.

Hermione pretended to scowl. "I asked you first," she prompted with a trace of a smirk. "You're not stalking me are you?"

Draco really did laugh at this. "I didn't even know that anyone else knew how to get up to this particular window ledge without getting caught," he mused.

"I found it on my second night," Hermione replied smugly. Draco shook his head.

"You do know it's against school rules to be wandering around at night?" he told her.

"Yes," said the muggle born girl, "but…I don't intend to get caught."

"As opposed to the people that do?"

"Oh shut up," she snapped, good humouredly at him. "Anyway - what are you doing here then?"

Draco took a moment to absorb the breath-taking sight unfurling before him; the lake glinting in the half moon, the forest swaying in the midnight breeze, fire-fairies flittering along in front of them, the giant squid lounging lazily in the watery depths. "This was my favourite hiding place when I was here at Hogwarts before," Draco told Hermione, admitting what he'd never told anyone before in his life. "Here, I could…escape everything…everyone…" he tailed, off looking into the distance.

"Your father," she filled in for him, sadness evident in her voice.

He sighed and gave half a nod. "I used to spend hours up here at night - sometimes day too - lost in my thoughts. How odd you should end up here too." Hermione shrugged her shoulders and lent beside the former Slytherin.

"I've ended up many places this past week," she admitted, "almost like I'm being drawn to them. But this - this just happens to be my favourite." She looked at Draco to see his response, but he was staring over the horizon, or what was visible of it in the gloom. She decided to pretend that she had never looked at him at all, and instead gazed back over the grounds. "It's beautiful, it's it?" she carried on. What she didn't notice was that as soon as her head was turned, Draco's icy grey eyes slipped onto her features, and watched her elegant bow mouth as she spoke.

"Yes…it is," he murmured, deftly raising a hand and sweeping a lock of chocolaty brown hair aside from her face. Frowning slightly, she turned and looked at him once more; this time his eyes never faltered. He cocked his head slightly and lowered his eyes. "I never knew you," he whispered, "all those years…I knew your name…but…" his words faded as Hermione's frown increased, and then gradually faded as she took his raised hand.

"I don't think anyone knows you," she said softly, "not really."

Draco allowed himself a proper smile. "You do," he said simply, then lent slowly over in the darkness, and kissed her gently on the lips.

---

Sunday morning was a rather amusing affair…of course depending on who's point of view you were looking from. Draco, for example, thoroughly enjoyed waltzing down to breakfast as if nothing had changed in his world, casually sitting opposite Hermione, who was acting likewise, then watch in glee as he nonchalantly slid his leather boot up her calf and made her drop her pumpkin juice into her porridge in shock. Lavender Brown, always up on the gossip, instantly noticed the change in dynamic between the two, and within about three minutes of their arrival had spun round and whispered the fact to both Mandy Brocklehurst from Ravenclaw and Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff. Naturally, it took a further four minutes for it to race around the rest of the entire student body. Dean Thomas noticed absolutely nothing as he was engrossed the back section of a muggle paper his mother had sent him all about football and other such sporting news. He quickly paid attention after a quick jab in the ribs from Sarah Potter as the former Slytherin and Muggle Born prodigy pointedly ignored each other in the most obvious of fashions and pupils hissed rumours that spread like fire on oil: "Draco _Malfoy_ and a muggle born?"

However, for as many people who were enjoying the scandalous new romance, there were those such as Harry Potter, Parvati Patil and Terry Boot who held Draco Malfoy in the lowest of regards. The three Wizard Born students were only the tip of the iceberg with regards to those who remembered the traitorous little Draco Malfoy, and loathed him even further with this seemingly new development of happiness.

It was therefore not so much of a surprise to discover the three students sitting together that Sunday afternoon in one of the empty Transfiguration classrooms; two sitting watching the other pace in the most furious of manners.

"He's like some…bloody little _prince_," fumed Harry as he made another round of the deserted classroom. "Just pitching up here, like he owns the place…coming into _Gryffindor _for God's sake! I told my parents about it - my mother was _pleased_, and so was Sirius - it's a disgrace! And all the Muggle Borns seem to love him, _'Draco's so cute, Draco's so this, Draco's so that'_ - do these people have no memory?" he demanded to Parvati and Terry listening aptly to his rants. "This boy's a _traitor!"_

Terry nodded. "We know Harry; there are those who haven't just forgotten the past decade or so - but a lot of these people don't - they weren't _there_, they don't know anything, not really-"

But he was interrupted by Harry with a fervoured shaking of the head. " But…he isn't living in your house!" cried the young Gryffindor in frustration, his train of thought wandering sporadically. "He hasn't been adopted by your Godfather! He's a snake he's a worm, he's-"

But Parvati and Terry would have to wait to find out what else Draco Malfoy was, for a that exact moment, Hermione Granger walked through the big oak doors. It was hard to tell who was the most shocked.

"What," said Harry coolly, as the door swung slowly shut after Hermione had stepped through, "are you doing here?" The was a tense silence as Hermione looked from one accusing face to another.

"Erm…I was just walking…after lunch," she began to explain, "and I was sort of…drawn here…" She tailed off, knowing she sounded lame, and her gaze fell to her shoes.

"Really," said Parvati nastily. "Are you sure you're not eavesdropping for your new boyfriend?"

Hermione was genuinely surprised at this remark. "I'm not…I'm not spying for anyone," she spluttered. "I swear I was just walking and…"

"Yeah yeah," said Terry, cutting her short, "we heard…but, still, odd none the less, hey?"

Hermione looked apprehensively at the group before her. Deciding they were too much of a challenge, she chose instead to focus solely on Harry before her. "I know you don't like Draco or I," she began, "but we really are sorry for what happened last November, and we…"

"'We' what?" Harry snapped, "you're sorry about Seamus?" he mocked, "or sorry that _your_ precious Harry departed right after causing anarchy in my life?" He folded his arms and waited for a response. Hermione's mouth formed a straight line as the anger started to bubble out of her.

Terry Boot looked from Harry to Hermione. "Err…what?" he said simply, but he was granted no response.

"What happened was neither mine, Draco's or Harry's fault Potter, so just get over it!" Hermione snapped, taking a pace or two closer to where Harry stood. "We are all truly sorry, but the person you should be blaming isn't us, or even yourself, it's Lord Voldemort and all his followers, so just give it a rest!"

Everyone in the room winced with Hermione's unflinching use of You-Know-Who's name. Harry stepped towards Hermione, clenching his fists; Terry looked even more confused and said "but…who's…Harry's right here?"

"You stole my life, Granger," said Harry very close to her face. "You, Malfoy and…_him._ I'm gone for one day and you ruin everything - you run off to Germany, endanger my sister and _kill my best friend!_ Do you think I'm bothered that you're _upset_, that you're feeling _sad?!_ Funnily enough, I'm bothered that Seamus is dead, that everywhere I go people stare at the ugly great scar slap bang in the middle of my forehead, that I have a _Malfoy_ living in my house! A Malfoy! But that's not even the half of what bothers me the most," he hissed dangerously, making Hermione step backwards, a look of sensible apprehension on her face. Parvati was standing with Terry next to her; both (especially Terry, who was quite clueless as to what was really going on) were quite stunned at their friend's outburst, and were looking worriedly on, wondering what was going to happen next.

Harry himself was almost dizzy, almost blind with rage as all the things he had had to keep bottled up for close to a year came spilling out of him in uncontrolled anger, frustration and grief at this stupid, ignorant little muggle born girl. He didn't even hesitate as he told all of them what he swore he would never tell anyone.

"He…he…you don't…_I have dreams!"_ he yelled, "nightmares about all the horrendous things that…that - _boy_ has seen. I see_ death, _I see _suffering, pain, loss, grief_ - he torments me! He ruined my life and he's still tormenting me! _I hate him! I HATE HIM!"_

Hermione, who had backed back into the door by now, was quite certain this terrible rant would have continued for much longer, had there not been a tremendous crack of thunder and lightening, right outside the window.

All four of the students, spun on their heals and looked out the glass in shock; the tumultuous storm had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Harry was panting from the adrenalin of his outburst. Parvati looked spooked, but Hermione's eyes flew wide open.

"Harry," she said urgently, "Harry listen to me - you have to calm down - this is what happened - exactly what happened before - Harry told me - you have to ca-" but she got no further.

"_Calm down!" _he yelled, "who the Hell do you think you are! You and him…just - you don't _know_ - _YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!"_

On his words there was a deafening blast of thunder, a blinding flash of lightening, and the walls of the castle shook to their foundations. The sound of glass shattering filled the air, and the four students fell to the floor.

"What the Hell was that?" asked Terry Boot to the others lying stunned next to him on the floor.

---

Draco turned round as the door to the old History of Magic classroom gingerly opened. "Oh - sorry!" cried Sarah Potter, "I didn't realise Draco, I'm sorry - I'll let you be."

"No - it's fine," he called as she started to close the door again. "You can stay." Sarah peeked her head round the door..

"You sure?"

Draco smiled. "Of course," he said as she walked into the room. "I feel like we haven't spoken for a week."

"Well - that's coz we haven't," said Sarah with a sheepish grin.

Draco returned the look and leant back against the window sill he was gazing out of. "Your brother makes his feelings pretty clear doesn't he - I don't blame you for not wanting to make him more pissed off than he already is."

Sarah sighed and joined him by the sill. "I know it wasn't…y'know, _him_ in Germany - I know it, I just don't really understand it. He's changed so much now."

Draco couldn't help but smirk. "I don't know," he said tartily, "I seem to remember him being a right arrogant little-"

"Draco!" snapped Sarah sternly. "He is still my brother," she cried, "and you weren't exactly a knight in shining armour when you two were at school together now were you?"

Her words stung and Draco instantly regretted putting her in a compromising position. "I'm sorry Sarah," he said after a second or two of weighted silence. "I didn't mean to put you between your brother and I…it's just," he tried to explain, "I miss Harry. He meant a lot to me - he was the central part of the epiphany of my life - he was probably my first true friend, and then he was whisked away and I feel kind of…" the young man trailed off, realising he was whining about his feelings again, and dignity simply wouldn't stand for it.

"So - how come you're…here?" he asked, changing the subject and indicating the empty room they were sitting in.

Sarah looked slightly sheepish again, but also confused. "I…don't know," she admitted. "I've found my self wandering about the castle - at night especially when I can't sleep. I've being walking purposely though - ending up at specific destinations - or so they feel. There's a looked door on the third floor corridor, that girl's bathroom haunted by a rather noisy ghost, the ground keeper's pumpkin patch, the Quidditch pitch. I get there like I'm meeting someone - you know the feeling, but then there's nothing. After a while I just leave - it's odd." She shifted her weight on the sill. "This classroom's the strongest though, I end up here almost every night." She looked at Draco, who was staring intently out of the window. "What do you think?"

He stirred from his reverie and looked back at her. "I think the same thing's been happening to me," he said, "and possibly Hermione. "I think there's something going on, but I'm not sure what. I don't know how these locations are linked, but I know they are. I'm also pretty sure there's something significant about this room in particular - but I can't remember what it is for the life of me." He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Whoa!" cried Sarah loudly, and Draco snapped his silvery eyes open to follow her gaze. Out the window there was the most spectacular fork of lightening, followed by a huge clap of thunder. Draco frowned.

"We had clear skies a minute ago," he said concerned. The storm outside seemed to flail and whip itself into a tempest within seconds, accompanied by further bursts of thunder and lightening. Draco stepped down and moved away from the window, taking Sarah with him. "Perhaps," he said, trying to stay calm so as not to alarm Sarah unnecessarily, "we should-" but he was interrupted before he could finish.

With a thunder clap to dwarf all others, and a dazzling flash of lightening, the ground shook underneath their feet, and the glass of the window in front of them shattered.

And then their whole world went dark.


	2. Not In Kansas Anymore

Chapter Two -

Not In Kansas Anymore

Sarah blinked her eyes sleepily and sat up. She was sitting on the floor of the History of Magic classroom; the window was intact and she was all by herself. "Draco?" she called out, "Draco - are you there?" But she was met only by silence. A little put out, she got to her feet, her head swimming, and looked out the window; the mid afternoon skies where clear once again. She looked at her watch, it read ten past three. I've been out for a good half hour, she though worried. What's happening?

With that, she stepped across the classroom, opened the door, and walked out into the corridor. She needed to find someone with answers, and she wasn't going to do it hanging around in some old classroom.

---

Draco screwed up his eyes. His head was banging something rotten; his hand came groggily up to rub his temples, but to little effect. What the Hell was going on? What had that been outside the window - had it really exploded?

After a minute or two he realized he was lying down…but it didn't exactly feel like the stone paved floor of the History of Magic Classroom. There was a murmur of sound about him; incomprehensible to him through the steady rhythm pulsating against his brain.

"Draco?" he thought he heard someone say. "Draco are you okay?" He didn't recognize the voice, and as he gradually opened his eyes, he didn't recognize the face either. Not straight away at any rate.

He was in a bed…no, it was a couch. There were a great many people kneeling and standing around him as he blinked a number of times and sat up. "What…where am I?" Draco managed through dry lips. He rubbed his eyes, blinked once more, then finally focused properly on the scene before him.

"What the…!" he cried involuntarily, and promptly fell off the green velvet sofa and onto the hard, cold floor of the Slytherin common room. Pansy Parkinson, the girl who had been speaking to him, quickly dropped to her knees beside him and grabbed his shoulders.

"Draco!" she cried, "you're okay - you just…fainted, that's all." She winced as she said it, as if he might strike out and hit her for suggesting such a ridiculous idea. Instead, he merely stared at her in a rather ungraceful manner.

"What the Hell are you doing here?!" he demanded, scandalized after a moment or so's frenzied thinking. "You - you left the country - with your mother after your father was arrested - what the…I don't-"

Pansy looked horrified. "My father hasn't been arrested Draco - what are you talking about?" She reached up and went to stroke his face. As a knee jerk reaction, Draco snapped his head back and leapt to his feet, making his vision swim sickeningly.

"Don't you touch me!" he cried. As he stood he took a good look at the rest of the crowd watching him in wonder. "What are you looking at?!" he yelled at them; and then, after a thought, "and what the Hell am I doing back in the Slytherin common room?" Pansy looked at a couple of boys (and Draco used the description only loosely) to her left, a frown forming on her brow.

"Draco - we were all in here - playing chess and stuff - and you, well, collapsed on the floor - that was about half an hour ago. We were going to get the nurse, but-"

Draco didn't let her finish. "I was not playing chess!" he cried, the confusion getting the better of him. "I - I was in the History of Magic classroom, there was a storm…" he trailed off, the blank expressions of the crowd undermining what he was saying. He really, really didn't like what was happening here. He never thought he'd be back in this dungeon again, and now he was looking properly at the faces before him, there was definitely something odd going on. He didn't recognize half the people, some were familiar from when he was a Slytherin in the first and second years, and some…some were…wrong?

"Blaise?" he said uncertainly, and stepped towards a tall girl near the back of the crowd. "Blaise Zabini?" The girl's amber eyes flew open wide in shock at being spoken to. Draco reached her, ignoring all the stares he was getting from the unfamiliar faces, and took a good look at his childhood friend. "What happened to you?" he said, taking hold of her shoulders as she tensed up and made to flee. Draco had seen Blaise at breakfast; she had been self assured and friendly as usual. But now she shrunk from his attention and hid behind waist-length hair that should have been cropped behind her ears. And still she didn't speak to him, as if too afraid.

Draco let go of her and she pushed her chocolate coloured hair out of her face, before running for the dormitories. The blond boy watched after her in complete disbelief. Pansy had her arms crossed behind Draco, and was looking distinctly annoyed at him paying attention to another girl when she had been the one looking after him.

"Draco," she said, "just what has got into you?"

"Yeah Malfoy," said one of the boys who looked remarkably like an ape. "You're acting all funny."

"_Don't you call me that again!"_ Draco hissed, spinning on his heals to face the two who had spoken. "My name is Draco, and I don't know what the Hell is going on here, but I am getting out of this miserable excuse for a common room and am going back to my own house."

Pansy looked thoroughly perplexed. "Draco," she said tentively as he stormed over to the door, "this _is_ your house."

He grabbed the handle and yanked on the heavy lead hinges that released him from the dungeons, just the way he used to do years ago. The familiarity did not please him. He paused and looked back at the numerous confused faces watching him depart. "I am a Gryffindor," he told them, "and I am now leaving." And with that, he strode out the door, slamming it behind him.

---

The corridors in Hogwarts were pretty much deserted, as was per usual of a Sunday afternoon. Draco stormed along, only half aware of where he was going; his thoughts in a turmoiled frenzy. Just what on Earth was going on here? he thought desperately to himself. If he was truly honest, he might have had a suspicion or two, but he was not going to give merit to any of them until he saw some solid proof.

And where was Sarah? The though suddenly occurred to him that he had been with the youngest Potter when the storm had hit them. Why hadn't she ended up in the Slytherin common room?

Draco rubbed his still sore head and walked through a secret passage hidden behind a tapestry of some sort of wizarding duel. All he could think of was getting back to the Gryffindor tower. Even though it had only been a week, the place still felt more like home than anywhere else, and Draco wanted that reassurance. The sun beaming through the arched windows along the corridor was still strong, despite the season, and Draco was getting hot and bothered. Why had Pansy been there? What was wrong with Blaise? The questions just kept tumbling over one another in his mind.

"Draco!" He spun on his heals. A rather stressed looking Sarah Potter came flying towards him from round the corner. "Draco - what's happening?" she cried as she arrived in front of him and lent on her knees for support, breathing deeply from running. "I got lost…where did you go?"

Draco helped the young girl stand. "Honestly," he said, "I have absolutely no idea. To all of the above. I was going back to Gryffindor - seems liked the most logical thing to do. Everything else all seems to have gone a bit crazy."

Sarah looked at him, her breath steadying, and nodded; so the two started walking in the direction of the Gryffindor tower. Draco rubbed his temples again in frustration. "My head's killing me," he moaned, "are you alright?"

Sarah shrugged. "I'm fine," she told him as they ascended a staircase leading towards Gryffindor. "I was a bit dizzy, but that's all."

"That's-" started Draco, then paused as he yanked Sarah away from a disappearing step in the middle of the flight just in time. "That's odd," he finished.

"So where were you?" asked Sarah again. "I was still in the History of Magic classroom - you had vanished when I came round." She looked at him carefully. "You didn't leave me there, did you? Coz I got lost - I couldn't remember how I'd got there and I started to panic-"

"Oh don't be stupid," snapped Draco, but with no malice to his tone. "Of course I didn't…abandon you, or anything." He chewed his lip as he looked left and right down the corridors of a T-junction. Deciding right was the way they wanted, he carried on walking, Sarah just behind, still looking at the blond boy's profile.

"Well?"

Draco gave half a glance at Sarah and sighed. "I…I woke up in the Slytherin common room. It was very weird."

Sarah though a moment. "I bet it was," was all she had to say.

They had veered into a passageway filled with portraits, most of whom were sleeping in the afternoon heat. A rather ruckus knight came charging by on horse back, moving from painting to painting, mildly arousing the frames' occupants from their dozing with his cries of damsels in distress and dragons to be slain. "Well…that was interesting," said Sarah once he was gone.

Draco, however, didn't have time to respond. For at that moment, who should come striding round the corner from the vague direction of the library, but Hermione Granger. She had an armful of books, as per usual, and was engrossed so much in the prologue of the top volume that she almost walked headlong into both Draco and Sarah.

"Hermione!" cried Draco as she went marching past, and grabbed her arm to secure her attention. "Am I glad to see you - you won't believe-" But that was as far as her got.

As if his touch had scolded her, Hermione cried out and yanked her arm from his grasp, almost loosing her stack of books in the process. Regaining her balance, she flicked her eyes up and down Draco's figure in a gesture of disbelief, which soon gave way to a flurry of anger.

"How…_dare_ you!" she gasped. "Don't you ever, _ever _touch me again, you horrid little _ferret._" She gave him one last scandalized glare, didn't even acknowledge Sarah's presence, then stormed off, disappearing round the other corner of the corridor.

Draco stared after her, completely dumbstruck.

"What was that about?" asked Sarah, perplexed, staring in the same direction. Draco's jaw clenched and he raised his chin resolutely, the old Malfoy recognizable for a brief moment.

"Nothing," he said sternly, turning on his heals. "Absolutely nothing."

"But-" started Sarah as she rushed to follow him.

"Come on!" he snapped a little louder than he meant to. He just wanted to get back to Gryffindor. Some how, he knew everything would be better once he got there.

---

It seemed to take forever to get to the portrait of the fat lady who guarded the entrance to the Gryffindor tower, but eventually Draco and Sarah came storming up to it.

"Red hot filibuster," said Draco, who reached the painting first. The fat lady shifted in her silky pink dress and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm afraid not dear," she said in her rather pompous accent.

"What!" cried Draco as Sarah caught up with him. "I've just about had enough of this; filibuster - red hot filibuster!"

"Don't you take that tone with me young man," snapped the fat lady, "I-"

But whatever the portrait was going to say was lost by the fact that at that precise moment she swung quite violently on her hinges and slammed into the wall. One of the third years, Natalie MacDonald, came charging out from the common room, full Quidditch robes billowing out behind her.

"Natalie!" said Sarah, "oh thank goodness - the fat lady wasn't accepting the password, we would have been stuck out here." Natalie paused briefly to look at them.

"I'm sorry - do I know you?" she asked, one eyebrow arched. She then seemed to visibly shake herself. "Look I'm late for reserves practice - sorry - er…glad to help - I'll see you later." And with that she darted off.

Sarah looked uncertainly at Draco. "What did she mean, 'do I know you?' - we sit together in Charms and Potions - we're room-mates for Christ's sake."

Draco shook his head. "I told you things were weird," he said, and climbed into the portrait hole as it the fat lady began to swing shut, a faint grumble about reckless students on her lips.

Draco reached a familiar scene of squashy armchairs and a blazing fire with numerous students milling about, doing homework, chatting and playing games. For a moment, as Sarah dropped to her feet beside him, Draco felt calm again. But it didn't last. A girl he didn't recognize with brilliant red hair was standing by one of the windows, riffling through a stack of parchment and talking to a shorter boy with mousy brown hair. The two laughed and the girl happened to look over in Draco and Sarah's direction. A look of confusion flashed across her face, only to be replaced with one of, well, horror. She gasped and let out a shrill yelp, before dropping her entire pile of papers. The people around her initially laughed at her apparent clumsiness, but as soon as they looked over in the same direction, the conversation stilted horribly.

Draco, despite his steely upbringing, couldn't help but feel a flutter of real nerves travel through his lower abdomen. He had received some pretty cold receptions since his transferal into Gryffindor, but nothing as bad as this. Something very wrong was going on here, and he had no idea what it was.

There was an extremely tense few moments were the entire room was staring at the two new comers (or more accurately, just one in particular), in which Sarah looked at Draco, who was watching the others back intently and nervously clenching his wand. He gave her no acknowledgment of the look, so she turned her head once more and observed the scene, biting her lip and trying desperately to think of something to say that would alleviate the unpleasant atmosphere.

Her rescue came in the form of three sixth years walking down the stairs from the dorms above; one of whom talking rather loudly in an extremely irate tone.

"I mean, he actually put his hand on me, grabbed me - I was so furious I could have hit him there and then but I had an armful of books and he was with a younger student - I didn't think it would have set a very good example to see one prefect belting another simply because he is a loathsome, arrogant, hateful little-"

Hermione Granger stopped mid-rant, her eyes falling widely on Draco and Sarah standing before her on the other side of the common room. There was a tall red headed boy standing to her left that Draco didn't recognize, and standing beside him, his face in an expression of utter disbelief, was-

"Harry!" cried Sarah. "What's going on?" She wrung her hands and stared anxiously at her brother, who stared back, brow creasing and mouth open, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't quite find the words.

Hermione, however, was not lost for words. "How…_dare_ you!" she cried, storming across the room to face Draco directly. "What the Hell do you think you're doing - how did you get in our common room?!" The red headed boy was not far behind her. He pushed her out of the way and grabbed Draco by the collar, slamming him into the wall.

"I don't know what the bloody Hell you think you're playing at, but you get out of here and you leave Hermione alone right now - get it?!" Draco flung him angrily off and pushed him away. Sarah darted to his side.

"Don't you touch him!" she yelled at the boy, fully aware that everyone in the entire room still had their eyes firmly on them, hardly daring to breath for fear of missing what was going on.

Draco remained remarkably calm; his breathing was heavy, but he managed not to raise his voice. "Listen," he said through a clenched jaw, "I'm sorry Hermione - I didn't mean to upset you - I must have misunderstood…" he left it hanging as he looked at her, but she showed no sign of concern towards him. He felt a pain shoot through him that he remembered only from when his mother would tell him she was disappointed in him, the way only she could. He ground his teeth and looked away from her, showing no sign of emotion back. "And you," he continued to the red-headed boy, "I have no idea what I've done to offend you, but-"

"Breathing, Malfoy," interrupted the boy, "that's about all you have to do to offend me." There was a pause.

Draco stepped dangerously close to this boy, his eyes burning startlingly. "Don't you _ever_ …call me Malfoy again," he whispered. "Or I will give you something to be upset about."

The boy stared back, although clearly shaken, his gaze never wavered. Until someone spoke.

"Draco?" came a quiet voice from behind them. Hermione and the boy turned to look at the owner of the voice, as did everyone else in the room. Harry Potter was still standing exactly as he had been before; his eyes were shining but his posture one of strength. And then…"S-Sarah?"

"Yes Harry?" said the youngest Potter, confused. In one swift movement, Harry crossed the room, ignoring all the stares he was still getting from everyone, marched swiftly past Hermione and the boy, and swept Sarah up into his arms.

"Oh my God," gasped quietly, "I-I don't believe it, I-" He released Sarah from his embrace and held her at arms length, taking a good look at her shaking his head. "How-"

Draco watched as Potter hugged his sister again, and began to get an inkling as to what might have happened, just what a mess he might have gotten the two of them into, but it was interrupted. To the surprise and horror of most in the room, Harry Potter then released the black haired girl, turned, and embraced Draco like a brother.

---

"Harry Potter have you completely lost your mind?!" shrieked Hermione as Ron grabbed Harry and pulled him off the Slytherin boy.

"What the Hell Harry?!" he cried, but the boy just shook his head, tears in his eyes, and shrugged him off.

"No - you don't understand - it's them - it's really…" Harry turned away from his friends, unable to articulate what he meant. "It's me, Draco; it's Harry…you, you recognize me, don't you?"

"W-what?" stammered Sarah.

"It's Harry - from…from Germany. You've crossed over - haven't you?" Harry watched as Draco's eyes widened and Sarah looked uncertainly at him.

"Harry," croaked Draco, and flung his arms around him, leading to another eruption of sound from those around them. Harry ignored them, as did Draco. "Jesus Christ," he muttered, and let Harry go, a little embarrassed at his own sudden display of emotion. "Is it really you?"

"Harry," Hermione interrupted tensely before Harry could reply, "perhaps we should go somewhere a little more private," she said in a lowered voice indicating the rest of the common room who were still aptly listening.

"Er…yeah," said Harry, quite bewildered still. "Yeah - let's go upstairs." He turned and walked quickly back to the steps he had just come down, Draco and Sarah right behind him. He didn't see it, but Hermione and Ron shared a very concerned look between them before following as well.

---

Harry could hear the frenzied chatter in the common room getting quieter and quieter as he climbed hastily up the stairs to the sixth year boys' dormitory. His mind was reeling and he could barely keep a straight thought; he wanted to ask so many questions, but he thought it best to hang on until they got to the confines of their bedroom.

He finally came to the door and burst through, barely a pause in his stride. Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom were sitting on their beds, talking with Seamus Finnigan who was doing his homework. They looked up startled as Harry came charging in the room.

"Mate, what's going-" Dean cried, but he didn't finish his sentence. As Draco and Sarah stepped over the threshold the three boys already in the room stiffened immediately.

"What the bloody Hell is this about?" yelled Seamus, and jumped off his bed. "Get out of here," he shouted, "you miserable, scheming…"

"Seamus!" cried Harry, stepping in between Seamus as he stormed up towards Draco. "Don't! It's a little hard to explain, but it's not what you think!"

Hermione and Ron came into the room and stopped, watching the scene before them. Seamus clenched his fists, Dean was standing with a very dark look on his face, and Neville just looked worried. Draco was staring at Seamus as if he'd seen a ghost.

"What is it then?" snapped Seamus.

Harry didn't know what to say. "Er…it's complicated," he said again. "You - you couldn't give us five minutes could you?" Seamus narrowed his eyes.

"Five minutes," he said, and swept out the room. "Keep an eye on him," he said not so quietly to Ron as he went past, then stormed down the stairs, Neville and Dean not far behind.

As the door swung shut behind the three boys there was a moment of tense silence between the five remaining occupants. Harry looked at the two new arrivals, two people he thought he would never see again, and slowly found his voice. "Tell me what happened," he said softly.

"We were in the History of Magic classroom," began Sarah, "and then there was like a storm, and the window exploded - I woke up about half an hour later, but Draco was in the Slytherin common room with a splitting head ache. What's going on?"

"History of Magic?" said Ron slowly, "isn't that where-"

"Yeah," interrupted Harry. "But what _happened_," he directed at Draco, "were you having an argument or…or what? What triggered it?"

"I have no idea, Harry," replied the blond haired boy, "honestly, this storm just appeared out of nowhere. Harry," he continued carefully, "are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Harry turned on his heals and marched over to his bed. He dropped to his knees, fully aware the others were still watching, and pulled out his beloved photo album from underneath the bed.

"Last November-" he said as he crossed back over the room, album in hand. "Last November I triggered a Dimensional Leap by activating the Hotspot right outside the History of Magic classroom. I ended up in an alternate reality. Your reality." He stopped right in front of Draco, and let the album fall open at the very back page in his hands. "It now seems for whatever reason, you two have now crossed over into mine." With a flick of his wand he cried 'revelio!' and pointed to the album, and on the hard-backed cover of the book, a photograph slowly came into sight. It was a portrait of four people, professionally done, and not taken that long ago.

"Hey!" cried Sarah as they all craned their necks to get a good look. "That's the photo that went missing from our gallery - the last family portrait!" She looked at Harry in disbelief. "That means…it's really you?" Her eyes were wide and she looked at Draco.

"This is unbelievable," he said, "what are the chances?"

"Very high actually," said Hermione matter of factly. Harry looked at her as he snapped the book shut once more.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Hermione flicked her hair back. "You created a link - remember. That's how you were able to get back. They must have just fallen through the same 'door' that you used." Harry noticed she avoided actually looking at either Draco or Sarah when she spoke.

"Hang on," said Ron, "you're going to have to go back and explain this to me - that's not Malfoy?"

"No," confirmed Harry as he went and put the album back under his bed. "That's Draco from-"

"From when you landed yourself in an alternate reality. Okay…so who's, er…"

"Sarah, my…well my sister," said Harry a little uncertainly. It wasn't something he was used to saying after all. "She's my sister."

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment where no one was quite sure what to say.

"Okay..." said Sarah slowly. "We're in an alternate reality…right?"

"Er…yes," said Harry, remembering how hard it was for him to believe it last November, and how it had been even harder to convince Hermione of the fact. Other Hermione that was.

"We don't know why or how though?"

"Well-" said Harry, looking at Hermione, who gave a small shrug of the shoulders. "No - not really."

"Oh," said Sarah, and bit her lip. "Would it be too optimistic to ask if you know how to get us home again?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. "Well…we did it before…it was relatively easy enough. I guess we'll just do the same thing again," said Hermione.

"Back to the library then?" asked Ron. Hermione nodded.

"Back to the library indeed."

---

The common room stiffened again as Harry and the others walked through, but the group ignored it on the whole. They walked out into the stone corridor, once more past the grumbling fat lady and into the brilliant Indian summer sunshine. Hermione was in the lead with Ron (both had their arms crossed), followed by a silent Draco, and then Harry with Sarah right beside him.

"I have a question," said the youngest Potter after a short time. "Why did Draco wake up in the Slytherin common room with near-concussion, when I stayed in the History classroom with barely a headache to speak of?"

"Did you?" said Harry to the blond boy, who turned and looked back at him with a shrug.

"Yeah - it was fun."

"Well, I presume that's where other Malfoy was when the transition took place, as they've swapped bodies," said Hermione.

Harry thought. "Well, Draco's taken Malfoy's body," he said, thinking back to his own dimension swapping episode. He really had no idea what had happened to their Malfoy, just as he didn't know what happened to the other Harry last November. He was just about to open his mouth and ask Draco about his counterpart when Sarah asked another question.

"But that doesn't explain why I didn't move - why didn't I wake up in the Gryffindor common room or the Great Hall or something?"

Harry stopped walking, causing the others to halt as well. He looked at his sister (the word still jarring in his mind as he used it) for a moment. "Sarah," he began carefully, "how much did Sirius tell you about the Alternate Realities?"

The black haired girl looked over her shoulder at Draco, then back to Harry. "Er…well, not much. That when we were in Germany….basically that whole thing wasn't my brother Harry, it was another Harry…you."

Draco looked at the two Potters. "Yeah - that's about all he told any of us - he seemed reluctant to say anything. Especially as any mention of the subject seemed to piss Potter off something dreadful," he added on an afterthought.

Harry sighed and looked at his two best friends. He'd barely told Ron or Hermione anything either, it was all a bit too painful, and he'd thought he would never have any contact with that world again anyway, so it also seemed rather pointless to talk about it.

He let out the breath he was holding. "Okay, well…" he began, but the sentence faltered before it had even began. Something had caught his eye out the window, in the direction of Hogsmeade, the nearby wizarding town.

"What is it?" cried Hermione, spinning on her heals to look in the direction of Harry's gaze, Ron right behind her.

"I thought I saw something," he replied, "but maybe not." The three of them continued their intense observation for a moment or two longer, then turned away from the window.

"What was that about?" asked Draco, an eyebrow raised.

The trio looked at each other; Harry shrugged. "The town's been on alert since Voldemort's public return; they'll send us a signal if something goes wrong, and I've just been having a bad feeling lately. It's probably nothing, but I like to keep an eye out."

It was an odd occurrence that not one of the group flinched at the use of the word Voldemort.

There was a pause. "So, what were you going to say," said Sarah, "just before?" Harry sighed.

"I was going to say this world is very different from the one you know Sarah." He had the rapt attention of the group now, he didn't particularly like it, but he kept talking regardless. "It came down to one simple fact; when I was a baby Voldemort was after me and my parents, so we went into hiding and chose Sirius to be our secret keeper. In your world he accepted the job, but here in mine, in an attempt to throw Voldemort off the trail he gave the responsibility to Peter Pettigrew, who betrayed them. On the Hallowe'en after my first birthday, Voldemort found Godric's Hollow…he killed my parents."

Hermione and Ron looked to the floor on this note, being more than familiar with Harry's tale of woe, but Sarah and Draco where very shocked.

"W-what?" stammered the young girl.

"He tried to then kill me - his original task - but because my mum had given her life to protect me the Avada Kedavra curse rebounded back on him, almost destroying him entirely…just like it did in Germany."

"Oh my God," said Sarah, her eyes as wide as saucers. "So, you're saying…"

"You were never born. Voldemort was gone, so the school never closed, not even to Muggle-Borns, and the Weasley family were never murdered."

"What?!" cried Ron.

Everyone looked at him. "That's Ron Weasley," said Harry to Sarah and Draco by way of an explanation.

"Oh," said Draco. Sarah looked very freaked out.

"I'm looking at a dead boy and technically I don't exist. Right, I've had enough, let's get to the library." And with that she turned on her heals and marched in the direction of the Hogwarts Library.

Unfortunately, the others had barely taken a step in her wake when a blinding explosion stopped them once more in there tracks. Shaken, Harry pelted over to the window again, a series of bright red flares shooting up in the sky before him. The sky above Hogsmeade. "Now I definitely saw something this time," he said to the others standing in horror beside him.

---

Draco could barely keep up with Harry as he torn down the corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Neither could the others in fact. Harry hadn't even had a chance to tell them where he was heading, a point Ron brought up as they charged through yet another tapestry and down another flight of stairs.

"Harry - what the bloody Hell are you doing - where - are - you taking us?" he gasped. Harry didn't even pause in his stride.

"The Honeydukes passageway - I have to get to Hogsmeade."

"Are you out of your mind?!" cried Sarah, "the place - is - under attack, we - we have to stay here!"

"None of you have to come," snapped Harry, perhaps a little harsher than he had meant to. They whipped round another corridor, and even he was starting to feel the strain on his system after ten minutes continuous sprinting; they slowed down as they reached the statue, behind which was a secret tunnel that would lead him directly into the cellar of the Hogsmeade sweet shop. What he did once he arrived there he would have to figure out later. "I can't just sit here and do nothing," he continued to the others as they leant on the walls for support and sucked oxygen into their struggling lungs. "I'm going to see what I can do to help, it's totally up to you if you stay here or not - in fact, it would probably be wiser if you-"

"Oh shut up Harry," interrupted Ron, who was looking even paler than usual after the sudden burst of activity. "Since when have we let you go on alone. You know, baring serious injury or physical barriers?" he added after a thought and another deep intake of breath.

Harry couldn't help but grin a little. "Like I said - up to you."

Hermione rolled her shoulders and took a steady breath. "Yes, Ron's right, I'll come too."

"And me," said Draco. His eyes were on Harry, but something about the way he was standing next to Hermione made the Gryffindor boy think for a moment. He didn't have time to ponder though.

"Right, okay - so when we get there, I want-"

"Hang on a minute," interrupted Sarah, "you're running headlong into danger…into a situation you know almost certainly to have rather violent Deatheaters involved in…and you're still doing it anyway? What are you thinking?! There are perfectly capable grown ups to handle this sort if thing!"

Harry rubbed his head; he didn't have time for this. "I know this probably seems weird to you, but I don't happen to have much faith in most 'grown ups' abilities to cope with things when Voldemort's around. Hence, I went to rescue you in Germany with Draco, and hence now I am going down to Hogsmeade and I - we - are going to help those people."

Sarah Potter's weight shifted uncomfortably as she thought about what Harry was saying. "Well…okay, I understand. And…I guess I'll come too, but I don't know how much good I'll be able to do."

Harry was just going say that she of all of them should probably stay behind, due to her limited practical knowledge of magic, but Draco piped up. "Don't worry kiddo," he said, "I'll look after you - best we stick together anyway." He looked at Harry, a slightly more serious expression adorning his features. "C'mon," he said, "we really should go."

Harry wanted to insist that Sarah stayed, wanted to keep her safe, but he realized there really was no time for a debate, so just nodded his head instead.

"Stay close," he instructed to the group as he tapped the statue on the head then gave the password. Obediently the stone creature sprung to life and moved aside so that the young group could squeeze their way past and into the tunnel.

"Another world, another crisis, another tunnel," said Draco after the statue had closed the passageway off again. "What is it about us Harry?"

"Just lucky I guess," he replied, appreciating the coincidence of the situation too. They made their way quickly along the irregular stone corridor, lit only by eerie torchlight, until they came to the trapdoor beneath the Honeydukes' cellar less than half an hour later. There hadn't been that much talking between them in that time.

"Right, stay close, stun anything that is suspicious looking, and well, just stay close to me - okay?" The others nodded, wands at the ready, and Harry, not dwelling too much on the situation, grabbed the handle of the trapdoor firmly and pushed.

The damn thing made a terrible screeching noise, and the five youngsters scrambled out from the tunnel and into the storage room as quickly as they possibly could, hiding behind a number of barrels of Bertie Bots Every Flavoured Beans. Harry held his breath, but after a minute of two he decided the coast was clear. "Come on," he whispered to the others, then pointed towards the stairs, signaling they should make their way up.

They made it up the wooden steps without too much fuss; they were far quieter than the door had been. Upon reaching the shop floor though, Harry immediately began to feel something was not quite right. The place was deserted, and not in a 'everyone's just run out of here in a mad panic' type of deserted Apart from the fact there were no people, the place seemed perfectly normal, nothing was disturbed or ransacked.

"Look," said Draco, and pointed through the shop window. Through the warped, old fashioned glass Harry, like Draco, could distinctly make out the shape of people milling around outside. The boys looked at one another.

"Let's go take a look," said Harry gingerly, and walked towards the door with the other four in tow.

Nobody seemed to particularly notice the five Hogwarts students emerging from the sweetshop, which was odd considering how many people there were on the street. Harry looked at his companions, who looked as if they were thinking the same thing as himself; this did not look like a town being overrun by the forces of the Dark Lord.

The people, to be fair, did look rather unsettled, and they were all talking with one another and looking up at the sky where the flares had been not that long before. But they were most definitely not under attack as the flares had suggested. Harry had enough. Making a decision, he walked over to the one familiar face he saw; Madame Rosmarta from the Three Broomsticks pub.

"Excuse me," said Harry politely, but the woman still jumped slightly at being addressed.

"Oh I am sorry Harry," she said, "didn't mean to - you startled me you see?"

"Sorry," said Harry genuinely, "I was just wondering if you could tell me what's going on?"

"Oh dear," she said, addressing the rest of the group as they approached as well. "It was You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters - they attacked the other end of the town. Old Bert in the tobacco store set off the alarm, and so the flares went up. It was _chaos_ for about five - ten minutes, and then it just stopped. The officials showed up from your school, just as they're supposed to, but by the time they really got here, it was all over." She clutched at her neck scarf and looked about her again. "I really don't understand it - they just disappeared."

"Erm…thank you," said Harry to the fretful woman, then backed off, signaling the others to do the same. "Did you hear that?" he asked them once they were a fair distance away.

They nodded. "Yes," said Hermione, "what do you think it means?"

Harry shook his head back. "I don't know," he said, "I can't understand what-"

"Hang on," said Draco suddenly, "she said something about officials from the school?"

"Yeah," replied Ron, "they've got guys from the Ministry staying with us in case of a problem. An attack on the town would have probably brought them over here-"

"And away from the school."

"Oh God," said Harry, looking from Draco, up to the school, and then back to his long lost friend. "There was never a threat on the town, it was all-"

"A diversion," said the former Slytherin, all the colour draining from his already pale face.


	3. Consequences

Chapter Three -

Consequences

Draco Malfoy could barely contain himself. In the last hour or so, he'd looked at his watch about a million times, but it seemed as if time itself was standing still. As was usual of a Sunday, lunch was dragging on for hours. People talking lazily, putting off homework, putting off the impending doom of the Monday morning start for just a couple more hours.

"_It is imperative you maintain appearances Draco. No one must suspect a thing, you understand?"_

His father's words rung in his ears, and his heart fluttered with anticipation. Never before, never in his whole life, had he felt this important, this needed, this valued. A brutal strike was about to befall Dumbledore and his insipid minions, and Draco Malfoy was key in its implementation.

At thirteen years of age, Draco had become accustomed to his father's distant manner. He had grown used to the barrage of criticism he received from all angles; his extended family, their peers, his peers. Adapted to his environment at this pitiful excuse for a school, formed influential ties, gained the respect he deserved from those surrounding him. The prejudice reserved for the name of Malfoy no longer bothered, but exhilarated him. He wore the odium like a trophy, he owned it, it was his. He was in control.

And yet, there was a sense of satisfaction that still alluded him. His need to prove his worth; to break from the smothering coddling of his mother and match the stature of his father was insatiable. He hadn't been able to believe his eyes when his father had written to him personally, not via some house elf of other such laky, and told him of the Dark Lord's plans for the school, and how he, Draco Malfoy, had been deemed the only one at the establishment capable of fulfilling the task.

Pride was an emotion Draco found himself feeling quite often. It was easy to walk these crumbling corridors baring the name of one of the oldest and greatest wizarding families of the age. But pride was a child's game, it had no real value, no tangible worth so to speak. Good breading was no match for actual deeds to ascend the ranks of power. And there was nothing Draco Malfoy wanted more than power.

Which is why he found himself unable to hold a single line of conversation with his fellow housemates; it all seemed so trivial. The dial on his pocket watch was moving at excruciatingly slow pace, but it was still moving none the less. After what seemed an eternity, he excused himself from the table, leaving his fellow students to their talk of Quidditch and homework.

Nobody noticed particularly as the young blonde Slytherin made his way from the Great Hall. Except maybe Potter, flanked as usual by his Paddy and Paki. Draco couldn't help but sneer as he passed the Gryffindor table, and relished the dark looks he received from a healthy number of its occupants. They would get their retribution, sooner than they realised.

He swept out the double oak doors, his mind full of the task ahead. All he had to do was reach the lake entrance by five o'clock, once his side of the spell was completed, Hell would quite literally be unleashed upon the school. He smiled to himself again; they would all get what was coming to them.

The corridors were thankfully bare. The teachers were having a council meeting, and Dumbledore wasn't even in the country. Planning, Draco had come to appreciate, really was everything. He scaled the sheer stone steps that lead down to the docks, taking a moment to reminisce about his very first night at Hogwarts, leaving the boats and ascending these same steps for the sorting ceremony.

The memory wasn't a particularly fond one; Draco didn't really hold with memories, fond or otherwise, so he let the moment pass. He dropped the last few steps, then stopped abruptly. His father was standing before him.

"You're late Draco," he said coolly. Draco knew he most certainly was not, but that was not why his father had said it, so he let it go. Standing beside Lucius Malfoy was Bartemius Crouch and Draco's Aunt Bellatrix. The three of them emanated power, and the Slytherin boy found himself half recoiling from and half drawn to it. He was a Malfoy though, so he did not let his feelings betray him.

Standing resolutely he faced his father and addressed him appropriately. "Father," he said calmly, "everything is in order." Right then, at that moment, Draco Malfoy did not feel thirteen. He felt powerful.

"Good," replied Lucius, and then he turned to Crouch. "Inform our Master; we will begin at once." Draco couldn't help but feel a slight pang of disappointment. His father was very hard to please, he knew from first hand experience, but he had expected some sign of gratitude, some sort of acknowledgment. None came though.

As Crouch conjured a sort of sphere of light and began talking quietly into it, Bellatrix moved back towards the cave mouth to keep watch, leaving the two Malfoys alone. Not a word was spoken by either.

"Yes Master," said Crouch, "yes I understand." He closed the sphere of light, along with the conversation, and turned to Lucius Malfoy. "He'll be here any moment," said the younger man, "we should begin the preparations." Lucius looked at his son.

"Are you ready?"

Draco looked squarely back at him. There was a part of his father that wanted him to fail, he could tell. Obviously he wanted to associate himself with success, but he had no faith in his son's abilities either. Draco wasn't sure if that shook or steadied his self confidence.

"Yes. I'm ready," he replied, and stepped forward to the water's edge.

Bellatrix walked back towards where the group was standing. "It's all clear," she said, then looked dubiously at Draco. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"Yes," he said, trying not to get agitated. He could do this, they asked him to and he was perfectly capable; why couldn't they just get on with it?

Lucius stepped forward to the waterfront and removed various potion ingredients from his robe, taking particular care with a number of glass phials and a delicate looking flower. There was a good few minutes total silence whilst the older Malfoy prepared the concoction in a small portable cauldron that Crouch had produced, but finally the potion was ready. He dipped his wand in the sparkling green liquid and whispered an inaudible word, making it glow eerily. He then swirled the cauldron, before spilling it in a circle onto the waves lapping gently against the dock. A pale green column of light shot up from the water, making Draco jump slightly; he was getting slightly nervous now.

A figure, barely visible, slowly appeared in the column; it's head, no more than a pale outline, raised itself slowly and looked at the group standing on the dock.

"Do I have the permission of the occupant to enter this abode?" The voice echoed with a spine tingling resonance around the cave walls. Draco swallowed on a dry throat.

"Y-yes," he couldn't help but stammer, "I, the occupant, give you permission to enter."

The face, still scarcely a shadow, seemed to smile. "Thank you boy," it whispered, and the figure stepped from its glowing confines and onto the shore of the Hogwarts dock.

"Master," said Lucius in trepidation, and sunk to one knee. Crouch and Bellatrix joined him, but the youngest Malfoy was too shocked to notice and just stood, looking on in awe at the imposing man before him that was Lord Voldemort.

On further thought, Draco realised this was probably an incredibly disrespectful thing to be doing, but the Dark Lord did not appear to mind. He smiled his snake like grin and placed a hand on the young Slytherin's shoulder.

"You have done well boy, this brave act will not be forgotten." And with that he swept up the stairs and out of sight.

Draco remained where he was, feeling slightly numb to the whole situation, just watching his Master go. Crouch followed swiftly on Voldemort's heals, but Lucius turned to his son.

With a slight inclination of the head he said; "You have made your family proud today Draco. Today, you have become a true Malfoy." Before following Crouch up the staircase and out of sight.

Bellatrix bit her little fingernail, eyes on the steps. She seemed nervous; Draco wasn't sure why, they had succeeded in their plan after all. "Stay here," was all she said to him, and without looking in his direction at all, she too slipped out of sight, up into the main castle.

Draco Malfoy, if he was honest, was feeling somewhat bemused. He'd just done something incredible, made his first mark in the adult world which he was soon to join. It took him a good while to realise he had been left behind, treated like a child once again whilst the others went on to take the glory in the long awaited confrontation.

"Potter won't be smiling any longer," he said to himself, as he gathered his thoughts and finally made his way up the staircase after the others, completely forgetting his aunt's warning to stay below.

Once again, Draco walked up along the corridor of Hogwarts school with a sense of pride brimming over his person. He felt powerful. But there was also a slightly nagging feeling of unease as he came to the door leading into the main entranceway; he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to find. But upon opening the door, he was surprised at how quiet the castle was. He at least expected some sign of the Dark Lord's presence, but as far as he could tell, at present there was nothing.

Perturbed, he went to go back down the steps, having finally remembered what Bellatrix had said about remaining by the docks, when a sound caught his attention. Spinning on his heals, he heard the tail end of what had surely been a scream. His heart started to beat faster; that was not a good sound. Before he'd had much time to think on it, another scream came from the same direction, then another. The boy's heart was thumping like a drum now, his mouth dry as sand.

He hadn't thought about this, hadn't actually asked what was going to happen once the Dark Lord gained access to the school grounds, but there was soon an unmistakable sense of unbridled panic sweeping through the air at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He spun round again in alarm; now there was a ruckus coming from the right. In fact, from all directions, there were screams and cries from the students in response to whatever was happening. Draco was shaking; what was going on?

Suddenly, bursting from his left, came a girl flying from the double oak doors leading down from the Transfiguration classrooms. Her name was Candice Longham, a Ravenclaw a good few years above the young Malfoy boy. Her face was stricken in terror. _"Run!" _she screamed, "it's right behind me!"

"What is?" cried Draco, as the girl came pelting towards him, but he didn't need to wait for her response.

A snake, so big it filled the entire corridor space behind it, came hammering through, knocking candlesticks off the wall and bashing the doors clean off their handles. It was heading straight for Candice.

Draco had barely time to draw breath; he was looking at a Basilisk. Before his eyes made contact with the beast's he flung his arms up and flattened his body as tightly against the wall as he humanly could. The huge serpent slid past at an astonishing rate. Draco risked a peek through his trembling fingers; Candice screamed and turned to look at her pursuer.

"No!" yelled Draco before he could think, but he was too late. There was a blinding flash of green light, and Draco dropped on instinct to the floor, shielding his face again by throwing up his arms. He lay there in a crumpled heap, listening to the sound of his own breathing and the distant screams from elsewhere in the castle.

Eventually, after what seemed like a very long time, he could no longer feel the heavy presence of the snake, so cautiously opened his eyes. He was right, the snake was no longer there. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he got to his feet, legs shaking with adrenaline. "Candice?" he said, looking round.

The girl was lying still on the ground not ten meters away from him; she wasn't moving. "Candice?" he tried again, slightly more panicky, walking towards her, his pace quickening with every step he took, until he was running to the Ravenclaw girl. It was no good though; in his heart, he knew what he would find when he reached her. Cold as ice, he stopped and leant down, pulling the girl's limp frame over so he could see her face. But he knew even before he touched her that she was dead.

"Oh…God," whispered Draco Malfoy, stepping backwards, eyes trained on the dead girl's face. "Oh God," he repeated, as the screams rang once more through the corridors of Hogwarts, stronger and louder this time. "What have I done?"

---

Harry couldn't seem to make his legs move fast enough as they ran desperately back up the tunnel to the school. How could he have been so _stupid? _ A diversion was so obvious a tactic it hurt, and yet he had still fallen for it.

"Harry I - can't - run any more!" cried Hermione, gasping for breath. Harry didn't even pause.

"We have to get there - get back, before…" he trailed off, not wanting to think about what may be already happening in the castle. They kept running.

The statue passageway back into Hogwarts came suddenly upon them, and Harry burst through it with barely a thought. Once in the corridor, he looking intently left and right, listening for any signs of trouble. The other four tumbled out beside him, Hermione looking as if she was going to pass out, the others not much better.

"What now Harry?" asked Ron, helping Hermione to stand. Harry thought, catching his own breath. He was just going to suggest heading towards Dumbledore's office, when Draco spoke.

"The docks," he said, his face drawn and much paler than usual, which was saying something. He hadn't said a word since Hogsmeade, and even now he seemed to be having trouble formulating a sentence. "They come from the docks - they get in…there, they come in and…"

"What are you talking about?!" snapped Ron, "how would you know that?"

"I - it…"

Ron let go of Hermione and lunged at the shell-shocked boy. "You're a part of it aren't you!" he accused, slamming him into the wall. "You were bloody taking us in the wrong direction - you knew!"

"Ron!" yelled Harry, and jumped to pull him off Draco. "You don't know what you're talking about, this isn't Malfoy!"

"It's _a _Malfoy!" Ron yelled back, "how would he know Harry-"

"Because it happened before!" cried Draco, somewhat back to his usual self; being called a Malfoy had partially snapped him from his dithering state. Harry let go of Ron and they both looked at Draco. "When the school was attacked," said the blond boy, addressing mainly Harry, "when it was attacked before…a Laisser Spell was performed, at the docks-"

"What's a Laisser Spell?" asked Harry, he could see where Draco was headed, but he was going to let him say it for himself.

"Someone…someone invites the person in - it's the only way to sneak in…"

"Invites - like with vampires?" asked Ron

"More complicated, but yeah…" said Draco, "someone who lives here…they would - would have to invite them after charms and spells - it has to be done with water - so the docks - I was in the docks…" he trailed off, breathing steadily and looking down the corridor. He was deeply stressed.

"Draco," said Harry quietly, stepping towards his friend. "This is not your fault, this is not what happened before - this could be anything…"

But Draco shook his head. "Harry there's no other way!" he cried. "It's exactly like before!"

"Even if it is, you did _nothing_ wrong."

"But I did before, it was my fault…"

Sarah was biting her lip; Hermione, along with Ron, looked on in confusion with the beginnings of horror on their faces.

"You helped Voldemort attack the school?" whispered Hermione.

"No!" snapped Harry, "look - it wasn't like that. Draco, snap out of it! This is not four years ago, this is here and now. We have to look after the school here and now. You know what you did and you've more than atoned for it. If you say it can only be the docks, then that's where we'll head, but we're not doing anybody any good by standing round here! Okay?"

Draco took a breath and seemed to come back to himself. He looked at Harry and nodded. "Okay," he said in a small voice. Harry blew out a sigh of relief.

"Right," he said, "lets go to the docks."

---

There was definitely something wrong. There was an awful stillness about the castle that Harry found far more unsettling than if there had been screams. They pelted as fast as their shaking legs would carry them along the corridor, round corners and down stairs, until they finally saw a sign of life. Looking out the window in shock was a third year, Natalie MacDonald. Harry knew her from the reserve Quidditch squad, and she was in fact standing before them in her uniform.

"Natalie!" he cried, "are you alright?"

The girl didn't move an inch.

"Natalie?" he tried again as the group came to a halt by her, but still she remained frozen.

"Has she been petrified?" asked Ron, looking further down the corridor. Draco visibly stiffened. Harry shook his head though.

"No…she's looking out the window," he said, peering into the girl's unflinching eyes. "And I killed that basilisk remember, it would have taken quite a lot to get another fully grown one here unnoticed."

Draco turned his head and looked at Harry. "I'm sorry, what?"

"A fully grown basilisk is huge, to get it here would have been no easy-"

"No," he interrupted, "I know that. I meant…you killed a basilisk?"

"Single-handedly," said Ron, a hint of pride in his voice.

"Er, yeah," said Harry, frowning. "Not really the point right now though is it?"

"Can you hear that?" asked Hermione, bringing them back to current events.

"Hear what?" replied Ron.

"That," she said, holding her hand up, indicating they should all just shut up. There was a distinct sound in the air now. Harry creased his brow in concentration.

"Sounds like…wings?" said Sarah. They didn't get time to argue. At that moment, a creature that looked remarkably like a big, furry wasp, flew round the corner. Its mouth seemed to be jabbering inaudibly, displaying numerous rows of sharp teeth. As it caught sight of them, its many hands clasped together and it gave a rather camp shriek.

Hermione barely waited a second before her wand was out. "Stupify!" she cried, and the stunned creature crashed to the floor. "Wranglers," she gasped, looking at the frozen beast. "They're locaters, they're searching the castle - I assume everyone's frozen like Natalie - that way they can find what they're looking for without any fuss." She was looking about with fervour as she spoke. "They travel in swarms, there's going to be hundreds soon - we need to get out of here."

"Agreed," said Draco, who appeared a great deal more resolute. "Let's head back to the village."

"No," said Harry, "we wont be safe there, that'll be next if anything." He grabbed his wand out of his pocket and started swiftly, but cautiously down the hall again. "Let's get to the Whomping Willow."

"I'm not even going to ask," said Draco, then after a pause, did likewise.

"But what could they be looking for?" asked Ron as the group made their way guardedly along.

"I'll give you one guess," said Harry darkly.

---

They got to the Main Entrance Hall with surprisingly little hassle. On the way they saw an abundance of frozen students but only a handful of the Wranglers, which they managed to immobilise with little to no fuss. The Hall however was a different story. It was crawling with the insect-like beasts and a healthy number of Death Eaters to boot.

"Crap," said Harry simply.

"Why don't we just go the other way we went before?" asked Sarah as they huddled hidden round a corner and out of sight. "Surely we could sneak out of Hogsmeade easier than trying to get out of here?"

"No," said Harry, looking at his sister briefly before turning his attention back towards the intruders in the Hall. "We don't want to go to Hogsmeade, if we can get to the Whomping Willow we can use the secret passageway to get to the Shrieking Shack. From there we can get where we're going, plus they wont be able to follow us, coz the tree will belt them one if they don't know how to pacify it."

"The Shrieking Shack's _haunted _though!" the youngest Potter hissed. Harry couldn't help but laugh a little.

"It's really not," he whispered back, "have a talk with Remus about it when you get home." She didn't look all that convinced, but she left the subject alone.

"Right, back to the subject of our impending doom…" said Ron, "what's the plan?" The group looked unsure at one another. Harry shrugged. "Oh good," replied the Weasley boy, and rubbed his forehead in desperation.

"We need a distraction don't we," suggested Hermione, "if we could - I don't know - keep them preoccupied for half a minute of so we could make a run for it…" but she trailed off, no idea what such a plan would actually entail.

"Maybe some sort of spell?" suggested Sarah, "a charm, some sort of illusion?"

Ron smirked. "We could use Malfoy as bait."

"Not helping Ron," snapped Harry. He bit his lip. If only he had his Invisibility Cloak, but even then they couldn't have all got underneath it. "God damn it," he hissed in exasperation, "we've got through far worse than this, this is ridiculous!" Just as Harry was going to give up and suggest negating their way back to Hogsmeade, Draco grabbed his shoulder.

"Wait here," he hissed, and before Harry could ask what he meant, the blond boy launched himself from their hiding place into the midst of the Death Eaters. Hermione clamped her hands over her mouth in shock and Ron made to run after him.

"No!" cried Harry in no more than a whisper and clutched onto his friend's arm. "Just wait."

"Mr Crabbe," cried Draco. Archibald Crabbe, father of Harry's school enemy Vincent, spun round from the Wranglers he had been giving instructions to.

"Young master Malfoy!" said the man, stunned, "what are you doing here - why aren't you in suspended animation?" He sounded somewhat clueless, as his son did when he spoke, but Harry had to say he was somewhat surprised by how articulate he was.

Draco folded his arms. "Do you really think I would allow myself to be herded in with those miscreants?" he snapped at the older man. "My father sent me to inform you that there is a problem in the north-east wing of the castle - the Ancient Ruins corridor, and that all available reinforcements are to be sent there immediately."

"What kind of problem?" asked Crabbe sceptically.

Draco looked menacing, a state he did extraordinarily well now, and carefully stepped a pace closer. "It is not your place to question, sir. Your presence has been requested." Draco allowed himself a smirk. "Or perhaps you would rather take the matter up with our Lord?" Crabbe paled.

"No - no, that wont be necessary," he stammered, "I was just, I mean…" he stopped and took a breath. "Everyone," he bellowed to the Hall, "relocate to the north-east wing immediately!" And with that, they scattered.

"Excellent," cried Draco as Crabbe, along with the others, retreated up the main staircase. "I will inform my father." He stood and watched them leave, a trace of deserved satisfaction lining his features.

Harry and the others came out from the corridor they had been hiding in. Draco turned and faced them. "Lead the way Harry," he said calmly.

"Draco," said Harry as they reached him, "you never cease to amaze me." He gave his shoulder a tight squeeze, and took a moment to remember that crushed boy crying in the forest, and thought how far he had come. "Let's go"

---

They sprinted across the Entrance Hall and darted through the heavy front doors. The afternoon sun was still beaming down strong outside, even though it was getting close to evening. They ran as fast as they could towards the Whomping Willow, using the cover of the forest as soon as they could. Ron scooped up a fallen branch as they approached the tree, its branches flexing threateningly as they got closer and closer.

"You know that thing will kill you right?" said Draco as they stepped back out into the open and drew nearer the agitated willow.

"Not if you're nice to it," replied Ron glibly. In one swift movement, he darted under the branches as they lashed out towards him and touched the specific knot on the bark. Harry watched Draco's eyes widen in surprise.

"Come on," he said to his friend, "we don't have much time."

One by one, with Ron in the lead and Harry at the rear, they filed down into the secret passageway beneath the Whomping Willow.

"How do you know about all these…passageways and things?" asked Draco as they walked hastily along towards the Shrieking Shack.

Harry allowed himself a smile. "My father, along with Remus and Sirius, were something of explorers when they were at Hogwarts, and they created a map with all their knowledge of the grounds on it which I sort of inherited."

"I'll remember that," said Draco.

The rest of the walk to the Shack was pretty quiet. As they reached the trap door, Ron looked back at Harry, who indicated he should open it. The red head did, carefully, listening for any signs of trouble.

"Clear," he called back down the tunnel, and scrambled up into the derelict house.

Sarah looked back down at her brother. "You swear it's not haunted?" she asked.

Harry grinned. "I swear." She gave a resolute nod of the head, and followed Ron up the steps. Hermione, Draco and Harry were not far behind.

"Crikey," said Ron as Harry closed the door. "No one's been here in a while then." He pointed to a series of footprints left in the thick layers of dust on the floor. They were there from Harry, Ron and Hermione's last trip to that shack, when they had discovered Sirius' innocence and Pettigrew's betrayal over two yeas ago.

"Crikey," repeated Harry, and looked about the house. "Right, let's keep moving then." He walked through the cobweb covered hallway and kitchen to the back door, opened it, and once more stepped out into the sunshine.

They were in a garden that spilled out into rolling fields and hills. To the right, the great lake could just be made out next to Hogwarts. Harry hoped everyone was still in one piece, then began walking.

"Are we going where I think we're going?" asked Hermione as they moved swiftly down a winding garden path. At the bottom of the hill they dropped out of sight from anyone that might have been looking from Hogsmeade. Harry blew a sigh of relief and slightly relaxed their pace.

"Yeah…seemed the safest place to go I thought."

"And that would be where?" asked Draco, helping Sarah step over a particularly tricky area of rocks.

"Sirius' house."

Draco stopped walking. "Sirius - Sirius Black?"

"Yeah," said Harry smiling, "he lives just over the horizon there, it's about a twenty minute walk."

"Cool," said Draco. Harry was getting the impression that Draco had a pretty good relationship with Sirius in his world, maybe even looked up to him as a father figure. The thought made Harry glad; they probably needed each other.

"Sirius doesn't like to talk about it much you know?" Draco said a moment or two later. "It's kind of odd - he's the so called expert on the whole alternate reality affair, but he's never really talked about the world you came from, always avoided it when anyone asked."

"Hmm," said Harry, "I can imagine - probably didn't want to tell his best friend he was dead and it was technically his fault, or that's what he thinks anyway." Harry took them off the path and they walked beside a stream for a while. The summer rays glinted on the water as a pair of butterflies chased each other across then out of sight.

"He was probably freaked out as well coz I was stupid enough to tell him his personal circumstances too. He almost wouldn't let me come back after that."

Sarah looked up. "What do you mean?" Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

"Well," said Harry. "You know I explained that Sirius swapped being a secret keeper and gave the job to Pettigrew? Well, Pettigrew basically framed him, so Sirius was sent to Azkaban for twelve years before he could escape."

"I had no idea you could sentence someone without trial," said Draco perturbed.

"I didn't know you could escape from Azkaban," added Sarah.

"You better believe it," said Harry grimly. "The reason…the trigger I suppose for my crossing dimensions was the fact that Sirius was recaptured last year, and was going to get a Dementor's Kiss if I didn't do something." He looked sheepish for a second. "I kind of…flipped out on top of the Hotspot, and well, you know the rest."

"What happened to Sirius?" asked Sarah, obviously concerned.

"Oh it was wicked!" piped up Ron. "Harry came back but didn't tell anyone, caused a right stir when he showed up at the castle only to disappear again."

"I didn't want anyone to try and stop me," clarified Harry.

"So anyway, he Floos over to the Ministry of Magic and storms Fudges' office-"

"I showed up without an appointment was all-"

"And he was all like 'let Sirius go or you're dead!' - it was awesome!"

Hermione huffed. "I think you're exaggerating Ron."

"I did go to his office, and I negotiated with him," explained Harry to Draco and Sarah, who were looking a tad confused. "I had a phial of Veritaserum with me, and I told the Minister to just ask Sirius the truth. At that moment a bunch of guards flew in, but I guess Fudge isn't as bad as we thought; he agreed, grudgingly, to do it, and we both went and saw Sirius together." The young Gryffindor allowed himself a warm smile at the memory. "I was there the moment they proved his innocence, and they let him go there and then with an official apology. It was fantastic."

"Wow," said Sarah in a small voice.

"He lives here now, close to Hogwarts and far, far away from London."

"Why far from London?"

"That's where his family house is," said Hermione, "nasty place I must say. We helped him move out from there in the Spring." She gave Draco a smile as she responded, which surprised Harry somewhat; he thought she wouldn't be able to separate him from their Malfoy for a while, but it seemed that his actions in the castle had convinced her otherwise. Draco caught her gaze for only a second before dropping it. Harry had noticed him looking oddly at her several times since his arrival, subconsciously if anything. Harry wasn't sure what that was about, so he let it go for the moment.

"He lives with Remus now," he said, going back to the original discussion, "and occasionally Tonks too."

"Andromeda Tonks?" said Draco, a little surprised.

"No, her daughter Nympha-something," replied Harry, "can never remember, we just call her Tonks. She's Sirius' second cousin."

"Yeah - I know," Draco said, "so am I."

"Sorry?" asked Hermione.

"Andromeda Tonks is my mother's sister, and Sirius is my mother's cousin. But Andromeda and her husband were murdered by…by Voldemort years ago, along with a cousin I never met - I guess that must be this Tonks."

The group had come to stop without even realising. Harry was impressed that Draco had said Voldemort's name out loud; he remembered it being a contentious issue between him and Seamus last November.

"Why were they murdered?" asked Hermione solemnly. Draco shrugged.

"Why do you think, they were good people who had the courage to fight for what they believed in, so - _k-pow! _" He made a gesture of obliteration with his hands.

"Harsh," said Ron.

"Hey though," said Harry, trying to lighten the mood a little, "you get to meet her now though."

Draco smiled. "Yeah, that'd be cool."

---

They made it to Sirius' house in good time. It was of a reasonable size, with ivy growing up the left hand side and a little wooden sign saying 'The Dog Star' on the gate. Harry walked up to the front door and pulled out his key, letting them into the house.

"Hello?" he called, "Sirius - it's just me."

"Hey Harry!" came the response from Remus, "we're in the kitchen." Harry smiled in relief and led the others through to a spacious kitchen. Sirius was sitting at the table and Remus was tending to a kettle.

"I was just making tea, do you guys want some?" said Remus cheerfully.

"Absolutely," said Ron, speaking for the group as they filed into the room. Sirius stiffened at the sight of Draco.

"Don't worry," Harry said hastily, "it's fine…complicated…but fine." Remus turned and stopped short when he spotted the blond boy. "Trust me, we've got bigger problems right now."

"Tell me about it," muttered Sirius. Remus grabbed the tray of tea things and placed it on the table.

"What's up?" he asked the group, giving Sirius a funny look which Sirius ignored as he snatched a mug of sweet tea. Harry wasn't sure what was the matter with his godfather, but he assumed he's just got out of the wrong side of the dog basket; Sirius could have a foul temper sometimes.

"The school's been attacked," explained Hermione taking her own mug, "we think the students are safe enough - they're all frozen in suspended animation while Wranglers search for something-"

"i.e. me," chipped in Harry.

"Good God," said Remus, "does Dumbledore know?"

"No idea," said the young Gryffindor boy, and took a mug of tea for himself, and then passed one on to Sarah. Remus looked at the girl closely.

"You look awfully familiar," he said to her slowly, "did I teach you by any chance?"

"Er, no," said Harry, "like I said - it's complicated."

"My name's Sarah though," she supplied, and shook the older wizard's hand.

"Sarah what?" pressed Remus.

"Just…Sarah," said Harry. This was no time to go into the complications of alternate realities. He'd never even told Sirius about what had happened last November, and now was not the occasion for sharing .

"Sure, that's fine," said Remus with a smile. Harry always found his old professor reassuring in times of crisis, he was always so measured. The group each found themselves a seat round the table with a mug of tea in hand. Ron and Sarah each took a biscuit and munched them thoughtfully. Harry was just going to ask Remus what he thought they should do, when Sirius spoke.

"How's you're rat, Ron - y'know - Scabbers?" Harry froze, his mug half way to his lips.

"S-scabbers?" asked Ron, who was just as confused. Why on earth would Sirius ask such a question when he knew Scabbers had really been Peter Pettigrew, a fact he and Remus had revealed over two years ago.

"Scabbers is fine," said Hermione brightly. She was always the quickest to catch on thought Harry, but he still had no clue what was going on. Remus hadn't flinched once, and continued drinking his tea. For an awful moment, Harry thought he might have slipped into yet another alternate reality, but then Sirius spoke again.

"Not escaped recently then?"

Hermione laughed, but Harry could see in her eyes she was nervous. "No, no nothing like that."

"You might do with letting him go one of these days Ron," Sirius carried on, "he's getting old now, you might want to let him free while you still can." His eyes were fixed on Harry when he said this last part. Harry swallowed carefully and let the words sink in. Something was very wrong…but he was denied the chance to dwell any further on it.

"Tsk tsk, Sirius," came an icy voice behind them, "speaking in code is against the rules." Harry and the others spun round to see who the voice belonged to. From out of the corridor stepped a women in her mid-thirties with a mass of curly black hair and hooded eye lids. Harry jumped to his feet, wand in hand; it was the Death Eater from Dumbledore's pensive, the one he had killed in the battle in the alternate reality last November. In her grip she held a wide eyed Tonks, her wand placed firmly to the girl's temple, crackling green in anticipation. "How stupid do you think I am, cousin?" she asked.

Sirius and Remus had also flown to their feet, the former back to his normal self. "How long have you got," he growled through gritted teeth.

"For God's sake let her go," Remus cried at the women.

"Erm - I don't think so," she said nastily, tightening her grip and making Tonks wince. She suddenly noticed Draco. "Well, well, well, we're got ourselves a proper family reunion here haven't we? What on Earth are you doing here Draco my love?" She was somewhat patronising considering she was speaking to almost a fully grown man that was certainly taller than she was.

Draco bristled. "Harry, this is my other aunt, Bellatrix. Aunt Bella, this is the guy shortly to be kicking your arse from here to kingdom come."

Her face fell sharply. "Got some new friends have we?"

"Damn straight," was all he said.

"No matter. Now, if you'll all please place your wands on the table where I can see them, I'll refrain from demolishing my niece's skull. Thank you."

Reluctantly the group did as they were told. "My master thought you might come here if you managed to escape the castle, he knows what a slippery little devil you can be."

"Take's one to know one," retorted Harry. Bellatrix pursed her lips and turned her attention towards Draco.

"You do know the inner most circle of Hell is reserved for traitors, don't you nephew?"

Draco grinned. "Certainly do."

"My Lord is going to take pains to make sure you understand the depth of your betrayal."

Harry had somewhat turned out during this brief discussion. Whilst all attention had been on Draco and his aunt, Tonks had managed to catch Harry's eye. She held it long enough so he knew it was intentional, looked carefully down at the wands laying two feet in front of him, then back up over her shoulder to Bellatrix. Once again, Harry wasn't entirely sure what the plan was, but this time his was prepared.

Draco folded his arms. "Are we just going to just stand there and insult us all day, or are you going to actually do something about it?"

Bellatrix smirked. "As soon as you got here I sounded the alarm. My comrades will be here any minute…I was just passing the time."

Not wasting any more time, Tonks gave the quickest nod of the head, giving Harry only a second's warning, before she slammed her elbow into her aunt's abdomen and smashed her trainer down onto her foot. As Bellatrix yelled out in shock, Harry grabbed for his wand, the majority of the room not far behind him.

"_Expelliarmus! _" he yelled at the women, but she was too fast. As Tonks dove to the right and rolled under the table for cover, Bellatrix leapt to the left.

"_Strepify lumares! _" she screamed at the boy. Only by the grace of reflexes honed by years of Quidditch did Harry dodge the blast, landing near the water-stone fireplace. The spell may have missed Harry, but it hit the shinning copper kettle on the work surface square on. The magic ricocheted in every direction, blasting parts from the wall, appliances from the ceiling and smashing the windowpane. People screamed as they hurdled themselves every which way in an attempt to avoid the debris.

Harry flung his arms above his head and rolled almost into the fire place. Being as his eyes were covered, he did not actually see the jar of Floo powder take a direct hit from the wayward spell. He did however see it crash from the mantelpiece into the fire place beside him and explode in a tremendous green fireball.

With a gyration so ferocious he thought he would be pulled apart, Harry found himself ripped from his godfather's kitchen; heading in which direction? Anybody's guess was as good as his.


	4. Schism

Chapter Four -

Schism

Draco Malfoy ran through the driving rain as fast as his shaking legs would take him. A ferocious storm crashed about his head as he turned down the dilapidated road and pelted towards the rather foreboding doorway of the house at the very end of the street. The terraced houses loomed in the November night; barely a light was on and the shadows danced and leapt about the place as lightening pierced the sky. Chest numb and gulping down air, Draco practically fell on the wooden door frame and began pounding on it with vigour. He didn't even pause as the door was heaved open; only on catching sight of the occupier did the distraught boy take a step back, out once more into the rain. He shielded his eyes from the glare of the lamplight, having been wrapped in the night time for so long.

"Draco Malfoy?" came the voice from inside. "What, may I ask, are you doing here?"

Draco stumbled back a pace and grabbed onto his wreck of a satchel slung about his neck. "Professor…please, I-I don't know what to do - please…help me."

Severus Snape stepped out from his rather poorly furnished landing and onto the porch. He folded his arms. Draco was shivering, but he did not invite him in just yet. "Help you how, Mr Malfoy?"

Draco looked up at him through licks of painfully blond hair plastered to his face and clutched at his ragged bag. His trousers were sodden with mud and his cloak had caught at one end, making it fray badly. "They…killed her," he stammered. Snape might not have heard the boy as a tumultuous crash of thunder shook the sky above them, but seeing as he had a good idea of the answer to his question before he had even asked it, he did not ask Draco to repeat himself.

"Your mother died in the service of our Lord," said Snape curtly, "how can I help you with that?"

"She was murdered!" screamed Draco, "she - she was just - an _example - _he obliterated her right in front of my father and he did _nothing!"_

"Sometimes the Dark Lord works in ways we find hard to comprehend, Draco, it is not wise to question him-"

"But you do!" cried the boy. "I've heard - whispers - of a resistance, people working within the ranks to bring him down!"

"I wouldn't make such bold claims if I were you, young Mr Malfoy," said Snape icily, "it will land you in serious trouble."

Draco tore his hands through his tangled hair. "I have been on the run for four days!" he shouted, "my mother has been murdered, I want revenge, I want to join _Freiheit! _ Now are you going to help me or not?" Snape took a slow in take of breath.

"What makes you think I have anything to do with this _Freiheit?"_

"I know you and my mother were close," said Draco, calming slightly, "and some of things she said…I don't know - I…I just feel she was trying to tell me something. Please professor…please help me, I'm begging you."

Snape let his eyes fall to the wooden floor for a moment. "We were close," he said quietly. There was a pause as he thought, and Draco stared intently at him, rain running off his features in torrents. The older man looked up, his eyes glossy. "I think you should come in Draco."

---

Snape let Draco sit whilst he made a pot full of steaming tea. From the kitchen, he could just keep an eye on his former pupil. He sat, almost catatonic, shivering by the fireplace in a blanket Snape had fetched for him. Wordlessly, Snape re-entered the living room and poured them tea. Draco, likewise, took it without a word. They sat in silence for a minute or so before Snape spoke first.

"You're sixteen now aren't you Draco?"

He took a mouthful of tea. "Not till December," said the boy.

"That means you don't have the mark yet then?"

Draco laughed ruefully and yanked his sleeve up. "Of course I do," he said, "my father insisted." Snape eyed his bare flesh carefully. Next to the tattoo of a black skull and snake were a series of scars, slashes running the length of his arm.

"Where did those come from?" he asked.

Draco snatched his jacket back down again. "I…was very upset…angry after that incident at Hogwarts two years ago, I thought…I wanted to punish myself for what I'd done, what my father made me do…" he trailed off, looking slightly disconcerted by what he had just said.

"Mother's maiden name?"

"Pardon?"

"Mother's…maiden name," repeated Snape.

Draco looked somewhat confused by this, but before he could think he answered. "Black."

"What colour underwear are you wearing?"

"Pink." Draco seemed to snap out of some kind of a trance and looked mortified. Snape couldn't help but smile a little.

"Sorry about that Mr Malfoy," he said, "I slipped some Veritaserum into the tea - I just wanted to check it was working. Ordinarily I would rely on my Occlumency skills, but I know you've been making extraordinary progress on that with your aunt."

"Right," said Draco somewhat sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. "I suppose you want me to tell you the truth?"

"Exactly," said his former professor. Draco took a breath, calmer than he had been on the porch.

"I want to change alliances. I'm not going to follow a blatant madman who murders people for no reason. I'm not going to follow my father's instructions anymore. I'm just your average rat and this boat is sinking." He thought a moment, a dark look in his eyes, and then added; "I want to make them pay, I want to take everything away from them…just like they took everything away from me. I heard - I mean, I gathered from my mother - that you were the leader of _Freiheit. _I want to help…I'll do anything. If you're not, well then just kill me now…I really don't care anymore."

He let his words hang in the air a while, before finally looking at his potion master. Snape looked directly back at him, then leant over and took Draco's mug of spiked tea. He swallowed a good three mouthfuls, before placing the mug back on the table and waited another few moments. "I am the leader of _Freiheit,_ Draco. I accept your pledge to our cause."

Draco blew out a sigh of relief and dropped his head into his hands. "Thank God," he said simply.

The moment hung between the two for a while; Draco's breathing steadied as he stared into the fire, his mind wondering. Snape held his clasped hands under his lip as he thought.

"This is no light obligation you take on you shoulders Draco," he said after a while longer. "People have died, good people, and not in the nicest of ways. You risk everything by aligning yourself with us."

"I already told you I have nothing." The boy kept his gaze determinedly on the flames in the mantle. Severus Snape allowed himself the smallest of smiles once more.

"Enough of this tampered tea, lets get you something decent to drink," he said as he rose to his feet, clearing cups and saucers from the table. "A meal probably wouldn't go amiss either."

Draco swallowed. "Thank you," he said quietly. He wasn't sure exactly how much he'd be able to eat, but he most likely needed to; he was feeling more than a little faint.

"You really couldn't have picked a better time to join us, from my point of view," said Snape as he moved about the kitchen. "Are you aware that there is a scheme in place, one which will restore the Dark Lord's power?"

Draco nodded his head. "It's only a week or so away," he said, "well…that's what…what my mother said anyway." He bit his lip and looked to the floor.

Snape pulled a loaf of bread out of a cupboard, flicked his wand, and let the sandwiches make themselves. "The Dark Lord has Dumbledore's mirror of Erised, I don't know how, but he does. He believes that from it he can retrieve the Philosopher's Stone."

Draco took a moment for this to register, before finally turning and looking at his former professor. Spots danced in front of his eyes where he'd been staring at the fire so long. He raised his eyebrows. "That's…kind of intense." Snape nodded.

"The Dark Lord's seers have been searching for a way to open the mirror and find the stone, but without success."

"Huh," grunted Draco, "until now you mean."

"You know they've had a breakthrough?" Draco nodded.

"Do you also know that it involves Harry Potter?" Once again Draco nodded. "Good," said Snape, "because, as your first duty to _Freiheit, _I am going to have to ask you to be our liaison to the boy. You are going to have to go to his house and recruit him before Wormtail can get a hold of him. We wanted someone his own age and you are, for want of a better word, perfect."

Draco looked sharply up. "You want me to - to work with Potter?" He looked absolutely horrified.

Snape smiled properly as he gathered up the finished sandwiches. "You said anything."

---

"Harry?" Came Sarah's broken voice from underneath the debris. She shook the dust from her hair and pushed what remained of the table away from her. "Harry?" She tried again.

"Where is he!" screamed Bellatrix as the room's occupants began to stir. "Where did he go!" Only Remus didn't move, but stayed put on the floor.

"He's gone Bella," he said numbly, "he's gone and you know it."

"No!" cried Ron as Sirius lunged for his cousin.

"This is your fault!" he yelled, but she spun round and pointed her wand at him.

"Back off!" she screamed. Draco watched on, trying to absorb all the information he could. His aunt was obviously becoming hysterical with panic and confusion. "He can't be – the spell wasn't that strong!"

"But you hit Sirius' jar of Burberry Essence, and you _know_ how deadly that can be – oh Bella – what have you done?"

"He's going to kill you," growled Sirius, "just like you killed Harry."

"You obliterated him," cried Hermione, remarkably steady.

Bellatrix whirled round in terror. "Just shut up – shut up all of you!" Sarah had tears in her eyes, Tonks was standing by the door, her pink hair covered in dust. She didn't even notice when several Death Eaters stormed into the room until one of them grabbed her roughly by the arm.

"Seize them!" cried Bellatrix, "confiscate their wands and get them to the rendezvous point!" She looked a little relieved to have back up, and as Draco took a final glace as they were frog-marched out of the house he saw her taking comfort from another male Death Eater.

"He can't be dead," said Ron as they were lined up outside. Draco was distressed by how much it looked like a firing line. No one took out their wands however, instead they were all taken harshly by the arm to prepare for side-along apperation. Draco had done this once or twice before and he wasn't keen on the experience. There was, however, more pressing things on his mind right now.

Within moments the rather large party was no longer standing on the grassy verge by Sirius' house, but on a deserted city street, adjacent to a considerably more busy one. A red double-decker bus went charging past. "London," murmured Draco.

"Where are we?" asked Sarah, obviously scared.

"The Ministry," said Ron, confused.

A vicious looking Death Eater looked down at the red head as they were marched towards an old red telephone box. "Clever boy," she said nastily. "Take the older ones first," she said to her fellow Death Eaters, "take them straight for interrogation, we'll put these four in a safe place."

Tonks gulped as she, Remus and Sirius were herded into the box. "Keep your mouths shut and your eyes open," cried Remus to the students as the door snapped shut and the box began to lower to the ground.

Hermione looked sick but determined. Draco looked down at his feet and thought. There _had_ to be something he could do? Sarah shifted her weight, but stopped fidgeting after a harsh look from one of the male Deatheaters. Draco prayed someone would walk down the road, anyone, a muggle even, so they could scream and raise the alarm. But no one came. After a minute or so more, the phone box re-emerged, empty.

"Get in," said one of the remaining Deatheaters callously, and shoved his wand into the small of Draco's back.

"Easy!" he couldn't help but snap. The Deatheater ignored him. It was a tight squeeze, but they all fitted into the broken old box. Draco didn't listen as one of the hooded figures talked with the automated voice, his mind was whirring with thoughts on how they could escape, and as they lowered into the Ministry's foyer, just how they had toppled the government? His question was answered almost straight away though as he caught sight of several officials, frozen just as the students of Hogwarts had been.

"Take them to one of the offices on the second floor," said the female Deatheater to the other two. "Make sure the door is secure then come straight back to the main rendezvous point; the Dark Lord is not going to be pleased by Lestrange's failure." They nodded and grabbed a student in each arm. The party didn't fight them. They were entirely silent until they were thrown unceremoniously into the office for Goblin Reforms and Logistics on the second floor and the door slammed shut on them.

They all stared at the door for a moment, then Draco spoke.

"Shit."

Sarah sunk into the blood red leather chair by the smoldering fire. She looked at the balding ministry official sat opposite her, frozen, halfway between drinking a mug of now cold tea. "I can't believe it," she murmured quietly, "I just can't believe it."

"Harry's…not really…_dead_ is he?" stammered Ron to Hermione, but before she could speak another voice answered his question.

"Of course not," said Draco as he started to look in detail at the room they had found themselves in. "Didn't you see the explosion of Floo powder as he hit the mantelpiece?"

"You mean you did?" said Hermione surprised, "but - you played along with me and Remus so well?"

"It was important to confuse Bellatrix as much as possible so she wouldn't jump in and try and follow him," explained Draco as he ran his hands along the walls, looking for flaws or anything else that might possibly help them escape. "He may be lost but he's almost certainly safe."

"Oh my God what a relief," breathed Sarah. "I knew he couldn't really be dead."

"Yeah, well that's more than I can say for us right now," said Hermione as she joined Draco in his examination of the room. His body stiffened at her presence and he refused to look at her. Things were complicated enough without getting confused by some Hermione-who-wasn't-Hermione right now.

"We need to get out of here," he said simply.

"More to the point," added Ron, "we need to get out of here, find our wands and rescue the others." He shivered. "I dread to think what's happening to them right now."

"To be honest," said Draco turning to face the red head, "the Dark Lord will know that Harry's still alive, so he probably will just want to scare them rather than get much information out of them. Hopefully," he added under his breath as he knelt down to look at the base of a rather large wardrobe at the back of the room.

"Do you think someone will come back for us?" asked Sarah with some trepidation.

"I'm counting on it." Draco smiled and stood up, looking at the wardrobe. "Guys and dolls - I think I have a plan."

---

Harry opened his eyes slowly and the last few moments of his consciousness came flooding back to him. With a jolt he sat up; he was lying on slightly damp grass, twilight was stetting in and he could hear the rumble of traffic in the distance. There seemed to be a number of huge stones around him.

Jumping to his feet he spun around in panic; he made an educated guess that he was at Stonehenge, never having been there before. There appeared to be no one around.

"Hello?" he called out cautiously.

How the Hell did he get here? His first thought was that he had traveled to another reality once again, but just as the sick feeling of dread was creeping up into his throat he remembered that he had fallen into the fireplace with a whole jar of Floo powder. He must have ended up here by accident - but how? He though almost straight away - there wasn't any fireplaces about?

"Hello?"

Harry almost jumped clean out of his skin. "Who's there!" he cried, wand out defensively. Out from the fast growing shadows stepped a young man, and Harry's first impression was that he didn't look that dissimilar from Tom Riddle, though he had an inexplicable air of clam about him that Harry just couldn't help but trust.

"Who are you?" he asked again.

"A friend Harry." The man smiled.

"Who's friend and how the Hell do you know my name?" snapped Harry, his notion of implicit trust wavering.

The man laughed and raised his hands in a submissive gesture. "Please, do not be alarmed, I am here to help you - shall I explain?" His dress was unusual, even for a wizard, Harry noted. He looked as if he'd stepped out from a century or two previous to the one they were currently in; his long black coat moved quietly in the soft breeze working its way between the stones.

"Er - yes," said Harry, keeping his wand up but starting to shiver. It may have been an Indian Summer but a t-shirt was not keeping him that warm as the sun disappeared.

"When you were knocked randomly into the Floo network I pulled you out to here - it is a kind of meeting place for us."

"Us?" interrupted Harry.

"My people - we are called The Watchers. We are immortal humans charged with helping to maintain the balance between the forces of good and evil. We do our best to…keep our eye on things as you would say."

"Right," said Harry. He had never heard of such a thing, but then he didn't study as much as he should. Hermione might have known, but she wasn't there right now, so he had to try and keep his head on his shoulders.

"So you just…watch?"

The stranger smiled. "It's more like we give fate a helping hand. We pay particular attention to you Harry Potter, the boy who lived."

A shiver ran down Harry's spine. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Harry - serendipity smiles upon you. Surely you have noticed all the fortunate escapes you've had?" The man took a step closer to Harry, but Harry didn't flinch. Some of that natural trust was coming back to him. "You just happen to be the one who found Riddle's diary after young miss Weasley tried to dispose of it? You just happen to own a wand which shares the same core as that of Lord Voldemort, ensuring the Priori Incantatem which enabled your escape from the graveyard? Or how about your sudden arrival in the alternative universe last year, where your unique skills were needed the most. The incident with the Floo powder just now is more than enough to show that you get more than your fair share of luck Harry."

Harry frowned, disturbed. "Are you saying that someone's controlling my life?" he asked rather alarmed. The man laughed and shook his head.

"No, I'm saying your life is cursed - or blessed - to be more eventful than others, and it is the task of people like us to help you to achieve your goals."

"Oh," said Harry, not entirely sure what to make of that. The two of them stood in silence for a minute; Harry shifted his weight but kept his wand trained on the stranger. "So…how come I've never heard from you until now?" he asked, trying to get things straight in his mind. "I mean, I've been in some pretty nasty scrapes, how come you never stepped in before?"

The man put his hands in his pocket. "You have always done okay for yourself, there has been no need to reveal our presence."

"You mean like when Voldemort murdered Cedric Diggory?" flared Harry, "I could have done with some otherworldly presence then." The stranger shook his head.

"It was sad but the loss of one life is not sufficient to provoke our involvement." He looked serious for the first time, his whimsical tone abandoned. "Harry, I do not bring you here now merely because I am bored; there are terrible times ahead unless events are put into place now to change things."

Harry frowned. "You mean you can see into the future?"

"No Harry, we are simply observant of the present." The man came and stood right in front of Harry and took him by the shoulders. "I had to pull you out of the network so I could warn you. There is so much more at stake here than the safety of your friends, or even the fate of your world. I had to give you a chance to prepare, as well as an item or two to help you in your task."

Harry looked up into the man's dark brown eyes and finally lowered his wand. "Will I be alone in this…task?" he asked quietly. The man sighed and turned away.

"Who can say? But you have achieved so much when your friends and allies have been stripped away from you, I am not overtly concerned by that."

I bloody am, though Harry, but remained quiet. He'd had so many shocking revelations in his life he wasn't sure how he felt right now; when Hagrid told him he was a wizard all those years ago he'd been relieved and excited. When he discovered the truth about Sirius' betrayal he'd been elated, and when his name had flown out from the Goblet of Fire he'd felt lost and abandoned. Discovering his heritage as the heir of Gryffindor had been slightly overwhelming, but not entirely surprising, but this? He wasn't even sure what this man was saying? What could be more at stake than the whole world - wasn't that what he'd said?

"What are you thinking Harry Potter," asked the man, pulling him away from his musings.

"I'm thinking how can the same crap happen to the same bloke twice?!" cried Harry running his hands through his hair and pacing towards the sound of the traffic. "I thought it was beyond coincidence the last time the dimensional doorway was opened, that all that stuff should happen. But now it's open again and the world's fallen apart - again! But this time it's _my _world. And now I find out - again - that I seem to be the only one who can do anything about it? This is beyond belief." He shook his head.

"I told you you are unusually blessed Harry," said the stranger kindly.

"You also said I was cursed," pointed out the young Gryffindor. As he stood next to the looming stones however he didn't feel young at all. He just felt old and alone. The traffic flashed along in the distance; the light faded in the sky, turning the horizon purple and mauve. He hung his head.

"I said I had something to give you," prompted the stranger.

"Something to help me?" furthered Harry. The man nodded.

"Not here though," he said, "I think it would be best to retire to a safer location; follow me." He smiled and turned on his heals, back towards the two pillars of stones he had emerged from between before. Harry frowned and did as requested.

In the blink of an eye, the young man slipped into nothingness, causing Harry to start. "Hello?" he called out into the twilight. There was no response, and Harry looked about, before calling out once again. "Hello?" Nothing.

Sighing, Harry decided his luck couldn't really get much worse, so taking a leap of faith he stepped forward into the gap between the pillars like the other man had done before him. A wave of warmth, followed by a tingling sensation passed over his body, and the landscape changed dramatically beneath his feet. The cool winds vanished, and he was no longer outside, but on the inside of what looked at first glance to be a modern looking, but very comfortable living room.

"Come in, come in," cried the young man from a beautifully kept kitchen as he grabbed a tray covered in biscuits and tea things and came over to where Harry was. He put down the tray and looked at the boy. "You look a great deal more healthier in some decent light," he remarked, and thumbed a lock of the boy's hair. It happened too quickly for Harry to properly register the flurry of embarrassment at the moment of intimacy. He shook his head.

"W-where am I?" he stammered instead. The man smiled over his shoulder as he knelt down and opened an exquisitely crafted wooden cabinet.

"This is my home," he said, standing up with a silver jewelry box held in his hands. He put it down on the coffee table next to the tray and removed his coat. He was wearing a chocolatey brown waistcoat that shimmered in the firelight, from which he pulled out a pocket watch. "Good," he said and put it back from where it came from. "We have a little time." Harry was a little shocked; his eyes wondered around the open plan house, over all the perfectly matched furnishings and silver ornaments of beautiful women, dancing it seemed with no one but them selves. There was a window with big heavy drapes partially drawn. Harry stepped closer and looked outside; it looked like a particularly foggy winter's night, with nothing but silvery mist swirling on an inky black backdrop.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. "I usually keep the curtains pulled," said the young man gently. He closed the gap and eased Harry back down into a seat, handing him a cup of sweet and milky tea. He sat down opposite and cupped his hands in front of his chin, looking at the boy. Harry looked back.

"Do you have a name?" he asked, sipping some tea; it warmed his insides up wonderfully.

"Several," said the man with smile and picked up his own cup. "I usually go by Alex now though, it is easier for most people to pronounce."

"Right…cool," said Harry. He felt he should have been feeling uncomfortable with the situation unfolding around him, however as no one seemed to be trying to kill him at this precise moment, he decided it was okay to relax a little.

"I know you have seen battle Harry," said Alex, his eyes slightly mournful, "and as a warier myself I wish I could give you something that would provide you with slightly more tangible reassurance, but this is the best I can do for you for now." He placed his cup carefully down on its coaster and undid the clasp keeping the sliver box closed. He opened the lid up and lightly lifted up a gleaming silver necklace from inside. "I entrust this to your care Harry Potter."

Harry took it and looked at the pendant hanging from the fine chain. A flat stone which faded from pink to a rich purple was laced in a oval ball of silver threads. Harry wasn't sure how the stone was suspended between the metal, but he could feel strong magicks emanating from it. He stared a moment.

"It's a bit girly," he said after a moment. Alex laughed.

"It was made a very long time ago."

"Oh," said Harry, "guess they didn't think about things like that then." He sighed. "Am I supposed to wear it?"

"Well, you could try eating it, but I don't think it would do you much good," said the other man light-heartedly.

Harry gave a small laugh to. "Fair point," he said. "What does it do?" he added as he attached the clasp behind his head and tucked the chain underneath his t-shirt.

"It offers protection and guidance…of sorts," said Alex. "Sorry I can't be more specific."

Harry shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he replied and stood up. He looked towards the front door, but was unsure if he wanted to open it. "Er…well, I suppose I ought to get back then?" he prompted. Alex nodded in agreement and stood too.

As they walked towards the door, Harry spotted a series of portraits hanging in identical silver engraved frames on the wall beside the door. "Who are they?" Harry couldn't help but ask. All the men and women, of which there were about a dozen, were all as equally beautiful as the frames they were sitting smiling in; they were very similar looking in facial features, in that they all had golden hair and dark brown eyes, but their dress suggested many different periods from history. They smiled bashfully and swept back their hair shyly. Alex reached out his fingertips to one of the women; she closed her eyes and smiled as he touched her cheek.

"They are - were - my mortal companions," he said sadly, and then looked down at Harry, dropping his hand. "You see, immortality is both a blessing and a curse too," he said knowingly, then lent across the boy and opened the front door. Harry couldn't help but gasp, Alex's past lovers forgotten.

Beyond the front step was, well, nothing. There was simply a back void with silver smoke swirling around, just like Harry had seen out of the window. "You see now why I keep the curtains pulled?" Alex asked. Harry nodded. That would freak anyone out.

"I am going to send you back as close as I can to where your friends are being held," he explained. "They are in London, but unfortunately there are spells in place monitoring magic in the area; you'll have to walk a bit until you reach their location." He looked down at Harry. "You know how to do a locator spell - with your…wand?" he said, unsure.

Harry nodded; he guessed that The Watchers were too advanced in their magic to require something so trivial as a wand. "Thank you for your help," said Harry.

"Just - trust your instincts Harry," implored Alex, "and you'll be fine." He sighed and took Harry by the shoulders once more. "I have faith that we'll see each again." Harry smiled, surprisingly reassured considering the daunting task that lay before him, whatever it turned out to be.

"I will. I - thank you."

And with that he stepped out into the nothingness.


	5. Showtime

Chapter Five -

Showtime

The cool evening air hit Harry's face as he stepped out from Alex's house and onto a deserted train platform. Shivering slightly, he turned and looked around the place; the station was small and covered by a dilapidated corrugated iron roof and obviously hadn't been repaired for years. Harry looked out and down onto an alleyway on one side and a children's play park and grassy verge on the other; the station sign was so badly covered in graffiti there was no way of telling what it said any more. That didn't matter to Harry though.

Taking a breath the boy pulled his wand out of his pocket and let it lie flat on his palm. "Point me," he whispered, and the wand glowed brightly and began spinning around like a compass. As he concentrated on the images of his friends' faces, the spinning wood gradually came to halt somewhere just to the right of him.

"Right," breathed Harry, and hoped that meant that all of them were at least in the same location, and, he hoped even more, still alive. With a thrill of determination, Harry headed off down into the park and into the night; his heart thumping, his eyes peeled, and his fingers, metaphorically speaking, crossed.

---

Sarah shuffled the playing cards she had found in the ministry official's desk for what felt like the hundredth time. There was only so long a girl could play patience for without loosing her mind; was anyone _ever _going to come back and check on them? The Quidditch players decorating the cards kept waving and offering her encouragement, but even that didn't improve her mood. Her emotions kept swaying violently from a tired boredom to overwhelming panic; she hated waiting around not knowing what was going to happen.

As she began to lay the cards out once again however, the door handle suddenly rattled, and the multiple locks began undoing themselves. Sarah froze at the noise, but then remembered herself and carried on casually as she could placing the cards face down in her game. A rather large Deatheater walked in; she wasn't sure if it was one of the ones from before, but then she realised it really didn't matter.

The man stopped, tray of bread and water in hand, and stared dumbstruck and the virtually empty room that lay before him. "W-what?" he stammered.

"Hello," said Sarah casually, not looking up at her captor. Her tone was calm but her heart was speeding like a race horse.

The man continued to stare, and now was obviously beginning to panic. "Where - where have the others gone?"

"Sorry?" asked Sarah, deliberately goading him.

"There were three other people in this room!"

"Ah," said the youngest Potter, "them - they couldn't stay I'm afraid, but they send their best none the less."

"Couldn't stay?" Even though she was very scared, Sarah still found the sight of a usually very intimidating Deatheater freaking out with a flowery tea tray still clutched in his hands quite amusing.

"Yes - as in they had to leave."

"Why - how come you're still here then?" he asked, suddenly suspicious.

Sarah shrugged. "Only room for three," she said in a blasé voice, "but don't worry, they'll be back."

Finally, the Deatheater got angry. Throwing the tray to the floor with a clatter that resonated through the room and down the corridor, he lunged forward and grabbed the girl by the shoulders. "Tell me where they went!" he yelled.

Sarah looked up at him trying not to let her terror show. "I don't know where they went!" she cried. "They said they'd come back for me as soon as they could and then left!"

"Why you?" The girl shrugged once again.

"I'm the youngest - don't think I would have been much use where they were headed."

The man looked intently at her for a minute more, then spoke. "Fine, you don't want to talk to me? I'll take you to some of my colleges, and maybe they can encourage you to speak." He grinned nastily and spun around, dragging poor Sarah Potter with him. She didn't protest, though her face finally betrayed some of the fear she had been battling to hide.

The Quidditch players on the cards looked about for where the girl had gone, but as they looked out of the open door the two pairs of footsteps gradually faded into silence. With no one left to play with them, they flew off one by one out of their pictures to amuse themselves.

Another minute of silence past.

Then, very slowly, the door of the wardrobe opened and Draco Malfoy, followed by Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley peered out into the deserted room. Draco looked at the open door and grinned.

"I love it when a plan comes together."

---

Harry finally gave up and put his wand in his pocket, deciding only to check it again when he came to a junction. He was getting too many funny looks from muggles passing by on the busy London street.

He rubbed his arms as they covered in a flurry of goose bumps; most of the day's heat had faded with the setting sun. He was getting anxious at how long it was taking him to find wherever the others were; he'd never been to this part of London before as far as he was aware and had no clue as to why his wand might be leading him here. He came to the end of the road and discretely pulled out his faithful wand again. "Point me," he whispered, and waited for the wand to stop spinning; when it faced back in the direction he'd just walked he let out a frustrated sigh and began retracing his steps, keeping the wand out despite the dodgy looks.

As he came to a darkened alleyway the wand changed direction suddenly, indicating he should go down it. With some trepidation Harry did as he was told, stopping only when he came to an old red telephone box. The wand then stopped glowing and lay limply in his hand; Harry looked at it in disbelief.

"That's it?" he said to it incredulously. "But…what am I supposed to do now?!" The wand, unsurprisingly, did not answer back. Discouraged and irritated he shoved it back in his pocket and stormed off further down the alleyway in hopes of finding a clue as to where he was to go next.

Frustrated, Harry tried to sense any magic emanating around the vicinity, but all he could get was a general feel from all along the alley, which didn't help in the slightest. Without even realising it he wondered back up into the muggle street and leant on the corner of the building at its entrance. He watched muggles walking to and fro, some stopping to get money out of a machine in the wall a couple of metres down from where he was standing. It didn't seem to be working that well, and people often yelled at it in exasperation or just simply hit it with hopes of enticing it to do the job it was supposed to. Harry assumed it was its proximity to whatever magic was about that was interfering with the money machine, but he didn't really care all that much. How was he going to get himself out of this dead-end? The others were relying on him to save them, and God only knew what was happening to them whilst he was dawdling.

All of a sudden the telephone box down the alleyway gave a shudder. Harry only caught it out of the corner of his eye, but he was so tense he jumped at the sudden activity. A woman at the cash machine gave him a funny look before walking on, but as far as Harry could tell he was the only one who had noticed the movement of the box. Looking back down the ally he was shocked to see it had disappeared entirely; I guess that was where the wand was pointing me after all he thought, feeling slightly foolish. After his years at Hogwarts he really ought to be able to spot a secret passageway a mile off.

He was just going to go and investigate further when the telephone box began to re-emerge. Deciding stealth was probably going to be his best bet, Harry chose to remain on the corner as if he hadn't noticed anything like the other muggles, and waited to see if anyone, or anything, appeared along with the box. Sure enough, he was not disappointed.

Two Deatheaters stepped out into the ally and Harry could hear their grumbling from where he was standing.

"Don't know who the Hell's gonna know anything anyway, he could be anywhere – bloody France for all we know." The second man laughed as he pulled off his robes to reveal a passable muggle assortment of clothes. The first followed suit.

"I guess we'll just start with the usual guys in Knockturn Alley," replied the second, "I bet the Dark Lord will find him first in any case, but if we at least look like we're doing something…" He let the sentence trail off.

"Yeah," said the first, "exactly." The pair dropped their unwanted robes into a nearby dustbin then started walking down the grubby ally and out onto the muggle street. Harry nonchalantly turned his head as they approached, as if he was looking for someone. They passed by without even acknowledging his presence.

Blowing out a sigh of relief, Harry watched them leave, and when they were out of sight darted down the ally and up to the phone box. That had been too close; he could only assume they were looking for him and he had been standing right under their noses. Maybe what Alex said was true, he thought as he peered through the glass and into the box, maybe he did have better luck than others.

He shrugged the thought off and concentrated on the matter at hand; did he really want to go down wherever this tunnel led? What if the same thing that happened last year happened again, what if he ended up in front of an auditorium of Deatheaters? This time he wouldn't even have any help, he would be totally alone.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, before looking back over his shoulder. This was ridiculous; someone could come back at any moment and catch him faffing about in broad daylight (or broad twilight as it was fast becoming) and what choice did he really have? He had to save his friends and this was the only way he knew how.

Pulling his wand out in anticipation, he stepped into the red phone box and, as it began to descend, hoped for the best.

---

"We are so lost."

Ron Weasley stopped and looked around what felt like the millionth corridor the party had walked down. Draco turned and looked at him, rubbing the back of his neck. "We are not lost," he said, "we just…don't know where we are," he added lamely.

"Well we do know where we are," Hermione pointed out matter of factly, "we're on the Fourth floor somewhere in the Department of Current Affairs. The problem is we don't know where we're going."

"Hmm," agreed Draco as he continued walking. "They really could be anywhere, but seeing as we haven't seen any sign of life since that Deatheater we hid from on the Third floor I think we might be heading in the wrong direction."

"Think you may have a point there," said Ron, peering into an office as they walked past. "Shall we head back to the elevators?"

"Yeah," Draco responded, "if I knew where they were."

They walked on in silence for a few more minutes, heading down corridor after corridor. "Do you think Sarah's okay?" ventured Ron after a while.

"She can take care of herself," said Draco, peering round a corner to make sure it was clear.

"I know – but – we just left her there, I mean, it just doesn't feel great."

Hermione nodded and looked at Ron. "If something happens to her, I don't think I could forgive myself."

Draco stopped and turned to look at the other two. "Look," he said patiently. He wasn't angry, but they'd been over this and it was wasting time. "We couldn't think of another way to get out of there. We've got far more chance of helping her – and ourselves – by what we're doing now – looking for the others."

"I know," said Ron with a shrug and carried on walking. "But, well, she's so young?"

"I don't think that'll be a problem," said Hermione, falling at his side, Draco on the other. "Think of all the shenanigans we'd got up to by her age – I was more concerned by her lack of magic skills."

"But that's exactly why it had to be her," said Draco as he moved out in front again. "None of us are any good without our wands, and if we do get them back, she'll still be kinda helpless. Whereas on the other hand, I can give you a personal reassurance that she can bullshit for Great Britain."

"Really?" asked Hermione.

"That girl dreams up all kinds of ways to get out of trouble," he replied with a smile.

They carried on without talking for a little longer, concentrating on where they were going and making sure there was no one else around to catch them. Unfortunately for them there didn't seem to be any kind of sigh posts though, so they really were travelling blind. Draco was listening intently for any sounds of people approaching, so much so he almost missed when Hermione stopped suddenly.

"Look at all these people," she said as she came to a halt. Draco and Ron did likewise and looked around. It seemed the people in this corridor had been frozen, not sitting at their desks or mid conversation like most of the others had, but leaping to their feet, leaning out of their doors, or running in the direction the trio had been walking.

"That's a bit weird," commented Ron, "wonder what was going on here."

"Let's find out," suggested Draco, and continued walking in the direction they had been heading.

They turned a corner and came across quite a scene. There was an Asian woman standing in front of a door, her arms outstretched and yelling at someone who no longer seemed to be present. There were several others behind her doing likewise, one of which seemed to be leaning on someone who was, again, no longer there. In front of them an older man was splayed out on the floor apparently having been cursed, and was being tended to by another younger man and woman. There were people standing about in the corridor, wands drawn and all pointing in the general direction in front of the woman with the outstretched arms. Ron walked up to a black man who it seemed had just arrived on the scene and had begun to draw his wand when he was frozen.

"I think that's Kingsley Shacklebolt," he said, peering into his stationary face. "He's part of the Order, works with my dad."

"What does he do at the Ministry?" Draco asked as he weaved his way between the unmoving people.

"Err, well he was in charge of looking for Sirius Black until his named was cleared, not sure what he does now."

"I think someone's missing from here," said Hermione, looking at where the person was leaning on thin air. Draco and Ron moved over to see.

"I'm going to take a guess that the only people who wouldn't have been frozen would have been Deatheaters," Draco speculated.

"Maybe one of them was a traitor then," suggested Ron, "acting as one of them until the spell was cast." Hermione nodded in agreement.

"But why weren't they cursed before the Deatheaters got here," she asked, "that's what happened to everyone else."

"My dad told me that some parts of the Ministry have extra layers of security," replied Ron, "perhaps this is one of them, and they had to get within the area before they could cast the spell."

"Sounds likely," said Draco as he eased past the people barricading the door and into the rather large office. "But what was so special about this room – why did they need to get in here and why were they protecting it so desperately."

Hermione stopped and looked at the sign on the door as she followed after Draco. "It says 'Bureau of Investigations', then underneath 'Research Department, First Division' – maybe it's like the police?"

Draco nodded. "I think you're right, and if that's the case, they could have been after anything." He indicated the room with his arms then let them drop to his sides. "There's allsorts of information flying around here, I don't know if there's any way to tell what they wanted in particular."

"Over here!" said Ron from the right hand side of the room. He was looking and a middle aged man by a wall of filing cabinets. He was looking over his shoulder at the door, one hand was in the middle of pulling open a heavy looking drawer, and the other looked as if it had been holding something reasonably thin that was no longer there.

"I think he had part of the file they wanted!" cried Hermione, then leant over to look into the open drawer. "Let's see, we've got 'dice,' 'dignitaries, foreign,' 'Dilbert Crank'-" She stopped mid flow and looked up at the others, her face pale.

"What?" asked Draco.

She pulled out a file that looked to have been well thumbed and probably very full at one point, but now she let it fall open, empty.

"'Dimensional Hotspots,'" was all she said.

---

Sarah Potter flexed her fingers nervously and bit her lip. The Deatheater that had dragged her from the office was tying her ankles to the chair she had been forced into sitting on; her wrists were already bound. There was another man standing behind them both of smaller stature, and he hadn't yet spoken, merely watched the proceedings with look of mild interest on his features.

"Comfy are we?" said the bigger Deatheater nastily.

"Could do with a cup of tea," replied Sarah, trying to hide her extreme anxiety about what was going to happen to her in the not too distant future. The Deatheater curled his lip at her and yanked the rope on her left arm tighter. She couldn't help but give an involuntary whimper, but kept her eyes lowered and jaw set.

The second man came and stood over her right shoulder; although she couldn't see him Sarah could feel his presence and it sent an ever so slight shiver down her spine. The Deatheater spoke to her again. "Right now, perhaps you'd like to share with us where your friends scampered off to, hmm?"

Sarah looked him in the eye. "I told you I have no idea where they are."

"Fine," he said grimly, "let's see how sassy you are after a bit of persuasion."

Before Sarah could even think about it he blast her with the Crucio Curse. She'd never felt anything like it; it was as if her whole body was bursting with electricity and would tear apart any moment. She could hear herself screaming but couldn't do anything to stop. Just when she felt she really couldn't bear it any longer she heard a faint voice cry out "enough!" and the pain evaporated as quickly as it had begun.

Panting loudly after the distress her body had endured, Sarah screwed up her eyes, temporarily blinded by the pain. There was a distinct taste of copper washing around her teeth where she'd bitten the edge of her tongue without even realising it; she spat what she could out onto the floor. Slowly, she became aware that her laboured breathing was literally now the only sound in the room; all else had gone deathly silent. Stirring her resolve she carefully opened her eyes, unsure what sight would meet her when she did.

Lord Voldemort was standing before her. She swallowed spit and blood from her surprisingly dry mouth and tried to calm her breathing. The last time she had seen this man he had try and kill her and her brother; it didn't matter it was an Alternate Universe, that kind of behaviour left a distinct impression on a person.

"Good evening," he said to her in his soft, snaky voice, "it seems you've been causing us a bit of bother that we really could have done without. What is your name?"

Sarah felt as if his crimson eyes were boring holes into her own. She took a small breath before replying to him. "Sarah…Jones," she said with only a small hesitation.

He smiled slightly as if he was amused. The big Deatheater grimaced slightly. "You are lying," said the evil wizard simply. Sarah felt her heart rate quicken.

"Why would I lie about my own name?" she snapped back. He smiled again.

"A number of reasons," he replied, "but I would suggest…" the sentence trailed off. "Well that is interesting," he said, and took a step towards her. She shifted uncomfortably, aware at how trapped she was. "You're a long way from home aren't you?" he said, leaning closer and tilting his head to the left.

Sarah shifted again, her breathing quickening whether she wanted it to or not. "Yeah – I was kidnapped – by you." She pursed her lips and couldn't bring herself to look in those intimidating eyes. He laughed once more.

"How did your friends escape?"

"I don't know where they are," Sarah replied instantly. There was something incredibly unnerving about this exchange, she felt as if his hands were gripping her skull and shaking all its contents about. Can he read minds? she thought, suddenly panicked.

"Mr Isden, do you know how the other three students escaped?"

The big Deatheater looked at his master, apprehension lining his features. "Well, er no my Lord, I-"

"Shall I tell you?" Sarah gulped. Voldemort was still looking at her, but the anger towards the other man was clear, no matter how well he was masking it.

"Er…" was all Isden could manage.

"They concealed themselves within a wardrobe, and when Miss Potter here told you they had departed, you left the door open for them. I would say that was a rather serious oversight, wouldn't you?"

"P-Potter?" stammered the Deatheater. Voldemort finally tore his gaze from Sarah and flew at the man.

"_That was hardly my point, Isden!"_ he cried, and in a movement so fast Sarah barely noticed it he unsheathed his wand and had Isden on the ground, screaming under the same curse that he had inflicted on Sarah not five minutes before.

It was over in a matter of seconds. Isden was panting on the floor, probably glad he wasn't dead thought Sarah, and the Dark Lord once again put his wand from sight. "Where is your brother?" he asked, turning once again towards the young girl.

"My bro-?"

"Don't play games with me!" he snapped, lunging forward and grabbing her wrists, still tied to the chair arms. "I know you have crossed over and I know you are the younger sibling of Harry Potter. This world or another matters little to me, you are still _family."_ He spat the word out as if it was poison. "Where _is_ he?"

Sarah took a couple of deep breaths and chose her words carefully. "You're right, we are family, so you should know that means that even if I knew where he was I wouldn't tell you." There was a very few tense seconds where they looked into each others eyes, neither blinking, neither breathing.

He smiled. "Your mind is so easy to see it is pathetic," he said, and released her wrists. "You do not know where he is, but you do know he fell into the fireplace with a jar of floo powder." He placed his hands together and tapped the index fingers. "The luck of that boy knows no bounds."

During this altercation Isden had hauled himself off the floor and was rubbing the back of his neck. Voldemort turned to him. "She knows nothing," he informed him, "dispose of her."

Sarah took an automatic intake of breath in shock. "No!" she cried involuntarily.

There was a knock at the door that made everyone stop what they were doing. "Enter," commanded Voldemort without taking his eyes off Sarah.

She was not really prepared for who walked through the door, even though she had grown up familiar with his face, and she knew full well how his voice would sound before he spoke a word. She had known him as Uncle Peter, but now his name was Wormtail.

"My Lord," he said in an ingratiating tone, wringing his hands and cowering slightly. "It seems we have news about…about what you wanted to hear about," he stammered and flicked his eyes in Sarah's direction. Voldemort did not move save for speaking.

"I presume you mean Potter's whereabouts?" Wormtail flinched slightly and threw a questioning look at Sarah, before ignoring her.

"Yes My Lord, it – it seems he fell into the Floo network and was then contacted by a Watcher – he ended up at Stonehenge, but after that his location is unknown." He licked his lips and looked intently at his master. Voldemort looked a little longer at Sarah before turning his gaze to his treacherous servant.

"Excellent," he announced, "I shall come and evaluate your findings myself." He made to walk out the room before he paused and spoke to Isden. "You and Grey will leave the girl and come with me, I have changed my mind for the time being as to what I want done with her. Wormtail," he said, inclining his head to Pettigrew as Isden left the room. "You will watch the girl. Do not leave her alone or release her under any circumstances, do you understand?" Wormtail nodded eagerly.

Grey, the Deatheater who had been standing behind Sarah Potter throughout the entire exchange, now moved round the young girl and made as if to walk out the door. As he passed her though, he suddenly seemed to change his mind; he spun round and grabbed Sarah by the shoulders. His face not more the a couple of inches from her own, his hand slid along her collar bone, up her neck and clutched the side of her face, tilting it upwards. "I'll be seeing you later," he said softly, before releasing her and walking out of the door as if nothing had happened. Sarah found herself breathing hard through her nose and it was making her extremely dizzy.

Voldemort smiled a little as if the action had amused him and made to leave himself. "Master?" came Wormtail's timid voice.

He stopped and looked at the pathetic man. "Yes," he said simply.

"Can – can I ask – why did you leave her alive?"

He gave a proper smile this time and turned to lock his eyes on Sarah. She lifted his head and for a moment they once again held an intense stare.

"Let's just say it's a question of leverage," he replied before finally leaving the room, letting the door slam behind him.

---

Harry dropped to his knees as soon as the telephone box broke through past the ground level and into the chamber where it was descending. Thankfully there seemed to be nobody watching to see him do it. As it touched lightly onto the ground the door opened with a faint pinging noise and Harry darted out quick as a flash looking for some cover. Breathing heavily and pressing his back against the wall, he looked about the place; he seemed to be in a short corridor leaning onto a large auditorium. A shiver ran down his spine at the sight of it. All, however, seemed relatively quiet.

He made a decision not to linger any longer and bolted out into the auditorium, not making a sound and keeping low to the ground. The area was once again disserted though, and Harry cautiously made his way along into the main open space. It appeared as if there had been a number of people in here not long ago, but that they had left in quite a hurry, discarding papers on tables all over the place and even knocking a couple of mugs of tea over in the process. There was a large ornate fountain gurgling in the centre of the room, but Harry barely noted it. It was evident his friends were not here and he would have to move on.

Just as he turned to go along one of the many corridors to the right he heard a voice behind him cry out. "Hey you!" they called, "who the Hell are you?"

Harry spun on his heals; there were two Deatheaters looking intently at his be-speckled face. He gave out a weak laugh. "Er…the Easter Bunny?" he suggested lamely. There was a beat where the two men looked at Harry and Harry looked back at them. Silence.

"That's Harry bloody Potter!" the second man cried. "Get him!" In a flash, wands were drawn and spells were flying everywhere. With a yell, Harry darted out of range of one curse before deflecting another. Unfortunately, it was the second curse to go completely awry that day, and instead of blasting Harry, it hit with full force onto the large golden fountain in the middle of the foyer.

With a crash like a roll of thunder the fountain blew apart and water escaped it's confines in all directions, pouring out disproportionately all over the floor, flooding the auditorium in seconds. Using the few seconds of distraction he had been given, Harry sprinted down the corridor he had been heading towards before, the water splashing at his heals as he went. He could tell by the yelling that the two men weren't all that far behind him, but there was enough distance that he could use it to his advantage. He turned the corner and found himself in a shortish corridor that ended in a T junction. Without really pausing for thought Harry darted into one of the open offices and under a desk, the water was almost up to his knees as he crouched, listening to the crashing waves carry on down the corridor, followed by his pursuers. Breathing steadily he gave them a moment or two as they ran down the left hallway, then bolted out from under the desk and doubled back down the way he'd just came. Perhaps another corridor would hold more friendly faces and less of the killer variety.

---

Sirius looked down at the half or so foot of water now lapping gently about his knees. "Well this is something new," he remarked. His legs were cramped from too long kneeling on the cold stone floor and he was bleeding at the wrists, the course rope rubbing into his flesh causing them it to burn with pain. The water had soothed his sore ankles somewhat, and the crimson blood was now swilling in the clear, cold waters. A splashing outside signalled someone was approaching, and with considerable effort he straightened up his back in an attempt to not look quite as pathetic as he felt. He couldn't help but betray a degree of surprise as The Dark Lord himself walked in.

"Having problems with the plumbing are we?" he suggested glibly as Voldemort and his entourage came to a halt. The evil wizard smiled.

"I see your sense of humour is still intact," he replied, like a doctor might to a terminal patient. Sirius didn't like the mortality that implied. Voldemort started pacing slowly around the circular cell, one arm folded behind his back, the other held in front of his face, as if he were inspecting the quality of his fingernails. "That would be your Godson's handy work," he said in an offhand kind of way. Sirius felt as if something cold and slippery had just made its way down his innards. He said nothing though. "I find it remarkable," he continued, "the seemingly limitless stupidity that Gryffindors possess. There I was, with all my followers out looking for that boy, and he goes and walks straight into my hands. Amusing wouldn't you say?"

Sirius stared at the water swilling about by his knees and composed himself so as not to betray the fear he was really feeling. "But he's not in your hands, is he? Otherwise you would be her making chitchat with me would you?"

The Dark Lord paused in his stride and gave a small laugh. "Perceptive as always Black," he commented. "No, it is true that I do not have the boy under control yet, and that is why I need you help-"

"I will never help you," he spat out almost before the other wizard had finished his sentence. Once again Voldemort laughed.

"Oh I'm sorry – did I imply you had a choice?"

---

Draco stood tapping his foot unconsciously staring at the elevator doors. The group had been waiting in the Forth floor corridor for a good few minutes now for the doors to open so they could travel on up to the next level and continue their search. "What's taking so long," he snapped in frustration.

"Maybe it's got stuck?" suggested Ron. Draco took a step back and looked at the door and the surrounding frame. He then stepped forward and tried to prise his fingers between the steel panels. "What are you doing?" asked Ron after a moment or so.

"Trying to see if it's stuck."

"Oh," replied Ron before moving forward to help. Hermione did likewise, and Draco tried to ignore the weight of her body pressing against his as they strained to open the doors. With a final heave the metal panels suddenly slid open and the trio jumped back to stop themselves tumbling down into the shaft. It therefore took a moment or two to register what they were seeing.

"Is that water? said Hermione in disbelief. Draco leant into the doorway, holding onto the frame to steady himself, and looked up and down the space.

"Yep," he said simply. In fact it was a veritable cascade and his face was soaked from droplets splattering down the wire cables and walls in seconds. He pulled away and wiped his features. "Looks like the lift's stuck down somewhere by the Sixth floor as well, so we're not going to be going anywhere anytime soon."

"That's not good," said Hermione.

"You'd think a place like this'd have stairs for crying out loud!" cried Ron in frustration. "You'd think they'd plan for emergencies like this!"

"Maybe they do," offered Hermione, "perhaps we just haven't found them yet."

"Hermione's right," agreed Draco, "we aren't going to get anywhere here, so I reckon we should go see if we can't find some stairs."

"You'd think a place like this would have sign posts as well," muttered Ron as they started off down the corridor. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked about.

"It's funny," began Hermione to Draco as Ron stormed off.

"What's funny?" he asked, careful to keep his gaze anywhere but her as they walked.

"To hear you use our Christian names, I mean on a good day it'd be surnames, but normally you'd just shout out 'oi mudblood!' and other such delights." Draco flinched at the thought of using such an offensive term now.

"Where I come from," he explained, "I – well I've been through a lot of things that means I'm pretty different from the guy you know here – in your world. Harry was…" He let it trail off, not sure how to sum up how much Harry had affected his life in such a short space of time. "He was there when my life really turned around, but then he came back here and I was left with obnoxious idiot I'd grown up with, and, well it was a bit of a shock."

Hermione shook her head. "I simply cannot imagine a scenario where you two could be friends," she marvelled, "it's quite unbelievable."

"I – I miss him," he admitted quietly, and allowed himself to look at the young girl walking beside him. She smiled kindly. "He was somewhat a kindred spirit," he said after a pause. "He – I think he was the only one that could really understand-"

But he was cut off before he could finish. At that moment, a voice rang suddenly and clearly from ten or so feet behind them.

"Draco!"

The trio spun on their heals and froze. Ron and Hermione looked shocked, but Draco's expression was a mixture of horror and utter disbelief. There was a moment of total silence. Then…

"Mum?"


	6. Map Of The Problematique

Chapter Six -

Map Of The Problematique

Draco stared up at the roof of his four poster bed. It still hadn't altered in anyway after the hours of attention he'd granted it, but he continued in the task regardless. He felt hollow and numb, and it was starting to scare him how the impetus to move was waning steadily and surely away from him. He flexed his fingers beneath his head just to make sure he still could.

"This is ridiculous," he said aloud to himself, and with a sudden decisive movement sat up, making the blood drain from his head and causing more than a little dizziness. The feeling was good; it certainly wasn't numb. He rolled off the bed and stood up in his room. It was much the same as it had been all his life, neat, tidy, and impersonalised. His father would never have allowed him to disrupt the décor that had been in place for centuries, just as in the rest of Malfoy Manor.

I suppose I could paint it all pink if I wanted to now, he thought as he left the drab room, heading towards the ground floor. His footfalls echoed in the empty mansion as the Spring sunlight shone through the tremendous windowpanes along the main corridor. If anything, the bright light made him feel even worse.

Draco made his way down the central staircase, hands in pockets, not looking at anything in particular. He felt he should probably eat something, as he couldn't remember the last time he had and he was still feeling dizzy from sitting up so quickly on his bed. He knew he'd lost even more weight in recent months, but he didn't really care. With little to do and no one to talk to he'd taken to running the vast grounds of the house for hours, just alone with his thoughts and the pain in his chest and legs. He'd picked up fencing again too, something he'd not done since boyhood and it was one of the few things that brought him any kind of pleasure or satisfaction these days. It did however mean his ribs were sticking out through his chest, but, Draco thought bitterly, no one else was around to care so why should he? He had also reasoned, in one of his more rational moments, that inflicting this kind of pain on himself was at least productive, unlike when he had taken broken glass to his arms when…

He let out a wounded sigh and lent on the kitchen counter. He really wasn't hungry at all, but he knew he might pass out again if he didn't get his act together. He pushed his long blonde fringe away from his eyes and ran his hand down the back of his head and neck. He opened cupboards one by one, but was having great trouble deciding on anything that wasn't going to result in a reflex stomach reaction.

"Oh, I can't be bothered," he snapped quietly to himself, and flicked his wand in the general direction of the bread bin. A beef and mustard sandwich started to make itself clumsily as he sank into one of the heavy oak chairs at the grand kitchen table. He rubbed his temples then leant back and looked at the ceiling. There was a spider in the corner closest to him working on a light and silvery web. As a boy Draco had a particular thing for tormenting spiders, but now he thought it was rather beautiful.

The plate landed with a thud more or less in front of him. The sandwich looked pretty appetising, and with determination Draco picked it up and took a bite. It wasn't bad. One productive task he had been working on since the new year was brushing up on his magic skills. He'd been out of education (proper education) for so long he had forgotten a lot of the basics he had once known, and with school re-opening this Autumn he would have to do some serious work in order not to fail completely.

The thought of school made him loose his desire to eat entirely, and he dropped the half finished sandwich back down onto the plate. He got up and left the kitchen, moving towards his father's study. Maybe he just wouldn't go back at all? he pondered, maybe he could just stay at the mansion and continue trying to teach himself. But even Draco knew that wasn't a feasible option. He might as well curl up and die if that's what he was planning on doing; he couldn't hide from the rest of the world forever.

He reached the large, ornate cabinet on the far wall and pulled the doors open. There was a time when this action would have set off every alarm in the house, but now it just remained as silent as ever. Draco sighed and picked up a near empty bottle.

"Why is the rum always gone?" he asked himself, and put the useless bottle back down again. After rummaging around the back of the shelf a little more he came across some decade old fire whiskey which looked like it would do the trick and some expensive Parisian cigarettes. "Excellent," he said, looking at the slightly dusty packet. Perhaps the day was not going to be as dismal as first expected.

Pouring a cut crystal glass of whiskey, he banged the heavy bottle down on the desk, lit a cigarette and wondered over to the gramophone with the intention of putting something extremely loud and dramatic on. As the music filled the air Draco smiled and closed his eyes; his father would have hated this. He took a sip of the amber liquid and felt the alcohol hit his brain. This was potent stuff and he was going to enjoy it, after all, his father never did.

Spending time in this study was ironically one of the other activities that cheered Draco up. He had never once been allowed to set foot in the room whilst his father was still at home, and the first time he had done so after his arrest had been one of the most liberating and exhilarating experiences of his life. He revelled in his gradual assimilation of the place; removing all his father's disreputable artefacts and enjoying all the luxuries he'd left behind. The drinks cabinet had been a life saver if he was honest, the occasional total blow out being the only thing that had really kept his sanity intact. But by smoking the expensive fags, reading all his private memos and playing whatever records he liked had also given Draco a much need sense of settling of scores against his old man. He may have been sentence to rot away in Azkaban, but Draco could get his own kind of vengeance by working through the liquor cabinet.

He stepped to the heavy bass and moved in time over to the ceiling high book case. Lucius Malfoy had an impressive collection of literature and Draco was quite happy educating himself with it. Perhaps he would spend the afternoon reading, he thought as he took a drag on his cigarette, but as he perused the various volumes nothing caught his eye in the slightest. He was obviously having an indecisive day he realised, slightly disappointed. He knew from years of experience there wasn't mush to be done when he was in this kind of mood.

Rather than let it drag him down again, he shrugged his shoulders and went to sit down at the mahogany desk. He loved the smell of the wood and leather in the room, and as he sunk into the armchair he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes once more. He drank a little more whiskey and mouthed a few of the lyrics. He wasn't going to attempt to sing along with the artist's soprano tones, but instead let the beat and violins course through him as he finished off his cigarette. If my father could see me now, he mused.

The last time he had seen his father had been at his trial. He'd sat with Sirius and watched with bitter relief at the Ministry as he was sentenced to life for high treason against the country, amongst other things. The memory made him smile as he stubbed out the finished cigarette. Sirius had been more like a father to him than Lucius had ever been in the short time they had known each other, and it was days like this Draco missed him the most. The most recent visit he had made had been less than pleasant though, as Potter had accompanied him for some unknown reason. Sirius had come to suggest that maybe Draco should think about his living arrangements rather than just staying in this draughty old house by himself, and Harry had stayed firmly behind him scowling from the shadows. Draco, upon first seeing him had moved to shake hands, or offer a brotherly embrace, but the boy had flinched visibly and stepped away. Sirius then began to hastily explain about the Alternate Universes and some of what had really happened in Germany, but he almost didn't need to. Draco had known Potter was an entirely different person without him even needing to open his mouth.

"Everyone leaves me," he said out loud and leant his head in his hand and his elbow on the desk. He'd been counting on seeing Harry again to help him through this transition he was facing, but as always, he was alone.

He tapped his index finger on the wood before picking up his glass and downing the rest of its contents. There was his friend though – the muggle born girl Hermione. Perhaps she was feeling the same way. That was a Hell of a way to get yourself introduced into the magic world, then to have your only friend disappear? In fact she was probably feeling even more alone than he himself was. He leant back in the chair as the track changed and poured himself a second whiskey. He tapped his finger again then started rummaging around the various draws of the desk looking for some parchment. He then remembered though that he'd used it all up the previous week sketching.

"Dobby?" he called out, unsure if he would be heard over the music. Within seconds though a crack like whip rang through the room and the little green house elf was bowing before him. Draco had found with less in his life making him miserable he no longer felt the need to kick the poor creature down the stairs all the time and as a result their relationship was vastly improved.

"Yes Master Malfoy?" he chirped as he straightened up once more. Draco grimaced.

"It's just Draco now," he said, "we've been over this, remember?"

"Ah – yes, of course," said the elf, a little uncertain.

"Would you fetch me some more parchment Dobby," he asked, adding " – please," as an after thought. Dobby smiled. He actually liked to be of use Draco had noticed.

"Of course Master-" he faltered. "Draco," he finished, looking pleased with himself. Draco couldn't help but smile too.

"Close enough," he said, and with a crack he was gone. He'd barely had time to light another cigarette before the elf was back once again; Draco thanked him and with a final crack he was gone for good.

Draco spent a long time looking at the blank paper before him. He tapped his foot in time with the music and stubbed out the half smoked fag. He picked up his father's eagle quill with the metallic nib and dipped it carefully in the open pot of black ink. He let it drip clean, then poised his hand above the parchment. The track ended and moved onto the next song on the album; as the haunting vocals stirred around the room, Draco leant forward and took the plunge.

"Dear Hermione…"

---

"Mum?" Draco stammered once again, aware that everyone had now turned their attention to him.

"Draco," she said, and moved towards him. He instantly flinched back, not taking his eyes off her.

"No!" he cried, "it's not you, I know-"

"What are you talking about?" she said, coming to a halt. She was so beautiful, more so than he even remembered. Her silvery blonde hair floated behind her and Draco couldn't help but think she looked like an angel. She had had her hands outstretched in front of her but now she placed them on her chest. "Are you okay?" she asked, concern in her eyes.

"No," he cried again, "no, this isn't, you're not-"

"Draco," came Hermione's voice from beside him. "This is a different world, this _is_ your mother, your mother _here._" Narcissa Malfoy looked between the two youngsters, confused. Draco nodded slowly. Hermione was right; he had to pull himself together. This was not actually his mother, and she might not even be on their side for all he knew. But the shock of seeing her had knocked the wind well and truly out of his sails.

"What are you talking about?" demanded the woman before them, a touch of that Malfoy arrogance ringing through her words.

"Do you know about the Dimensional Hotspots?" asked Hermione, "we found an empty file and we think that's what has brought You-Know-Who here to the Ministry."

Narcissa took a step closer. "Yes, but I don't see why that's-"

"That's where I'm from," interrupted Draco, "I'm from a Parallel Universe."

His mother stopped. "So – so you're not actually my son?" she stammered. Draco shook his head slowly. "Where is my son then?"

The three students looked at each other, the thought crossing their minds for the first time. "Erm," said Draco, "I honestly have no idea – but he'll return," he reassured the woman quickly seeing the look on her face. "As soon as I get home, he'll come back into this body."

"Oh…right," she said. There was a moment where no one could think of anything to say.

"Do you know what You-Know-Who wants with Dimensional Hotspots," said Hermione after a pause.

Narcissa shook her head and Draco noticed for the second time that Hermione had said You-Know-Who instead of Voldemort. It seemed odd coming from her but he decided this was not the time to comment.

"I think it has something to do with a prophecy," she offered, "but that's all I know. I'm not exactly in the inner circle," she added by way of an explanation.

Draco let out a moan and slapped his forehead. "Let me guess – there's a prophecy he thinks Harry knows and he wants to know it too – something to do with Dimensional Leaps and Hotspots and stuff."

Narcissa held her hands out in front of herself. "Er – I guess so-"

"For the love of – doesn't anybody know – I thought everybody knew for crying out loud!" he exclaimed.

"Know what," asked Ron, genuinely confused. Draco dropped his arm.

"When Harry travelled over before, to my world, I kind of told him that he's the Heir of Gryffindor – which I thought everybody knew! But apparently not." He shrugged his shoulders.

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "Are you sure?" she cried. He looked about the group.

"I'm very sure – that's got to be what it's about, right – I mean how many prophecies can there be?"

"Good point," agreed Ron, "and that's a pretty important one – I bet he's dying to find that out."

"I think he's killing to find that out, more to the point," said Draco solemnly. The others nodded.

"Draco," said Narcissa uncertainly, turning their attention back towards her. "What are you doing here – I mean – when your father told me-"

"My father's here?" snapped Draco, not letting her finish. She nodded. "Tremendous."

"Er – we were kidnapped Mrs Malfoy," offered Hermione, catching Draco's venomous expression. "They were after Harry, there was this woman-"

"Bellatrix," interrupted Draco for a second time. He wanted to see how she would react to the name of her sister. To his satisfaction she grimaced.

"That little snake," she cried, " does she have no loyalty to the family?"

"They took Nymphadora Tonks as well, we don't know where they are," he added, probing further.

"Oh," she said, and looked at each of the youngsters in turn before stepping closer once again. "Well…they're amassing in one of the courtrooms, the largest one I think…"

"Courtroom Ten," growled Draco. He knew it well. "What are they doing there?"

"I – I'm not sure," she admitted, "but I think they're trying to lure the Potter boy to them."

"Harry's here?" cried Ron in voice mixed with incredulity and relief. Narcissa nodded.

"I think they're using his Godfather as bait."

"We have to do something!" said Hermione desperately, but Draco remained suspicious. As much as he wanted to believe his mother he still had no firm assurance that this whole encounter was genuine.

"No," he said firmly, "any attempt we make to rescue them would be suicide. They are highly trained crazy people and we don't even have our wands."

"Oh…well actually," Narcissa said quietly, before reaching into her robes. "When I heard you were here Draco I knew something was terribly wrong, and I came looking for you…" she let the sentence trail off as she revealed what had been in her inside pocket.

"Our wands!" cried Hermione in delight and jumped to extract her own from the collection the older woman now held in her hands. Draco let go a mental breath of relief and moved to take his own. He had the feeling his mother had been telling the truth, but he got the feeling that she would hardly arm them if she intended them harm.

"Oh – we should go find Sarah," said Ron, eyeing her wand amongst those remaining.

"I know where she is," said Narcissa before the others could respond. Hermione's eyes flew open.

"Is she okay?" she asked. Narcissa nodded.

"Someone is watching over her – I'm sure I could get her free without too much trouble – everyone knows who I am."

"You mean…you're willing to turn against your own people, you're going to help us?" asked Hermione uncertainly. Narcissa gave her a serious look.

"Anyone who kidnaps my son and doesn't expect swift retribution wholly deserves what they get," she said simply.

Draco felt a thrill of pride quickly replaced by determination and a healthy amount of nerves. "Okay," he said resolutely, "my…mother will go to Sarah, and we'll go see if we can't help the others." Saying the word 'mother' jarred in his throat as he said it, but no one else seemed to notice.

"How though?" asked Ron quickly, "the lifts are busted."

"We'll have to use the stairs," said Narcissa, "they're just on up ahead."

"I knew there had to be stairs!" cried the redhead in relief. Hermione fingered her wand nervously.

"I guess we should get going then?" The others nodded.

They walked in silence and Draco's head was reeling. This is what Harry must of gone through last November, he thought. No wonder he was in a bit of a state when I found him.

They reached a narrow spiral staircase at the end of a corridor. There was water cascading downwards from whatever source above. "Care to shed any light on the new and exciting indoor swimming pool situation," Draco asked Narcissa. She shook her head.

"I'm at just as much of a loss as you are."

"Which way Draco?" said Hermione, a little more resolute than she had been a moment ago.

"Downwards," he said grimly.

"And I have to go up," said Narcissa, "so…I guess this is goodbye. For now," she added hastily. "Please - return these to their owners," she said, handing the remaining wands to Hermione.

"Right," said Ron and began down the slippery stone steps. Hermione did likewise, sparing Draco a brief sympathetic look before disappearing round the corner. Did she know his own mother was dead, thought Draco, or has she just guessed. Either way, she was right in her assessment of Draco's current state of mind. There was a cold lump in his throat as he turned to Narcissa.

"I – er," he began, but looking at her face he wasn't too sure what he should say. Images from his childhood were flashing through his mind and it was making it very difficult to concentrate. "It was good to see you again," he said, matter of factly. He wanted to hug her but he wasn't sure how. He might never see her again, and a kind of panic was rising up in him. Luckily Narcissa solved the problem for him, and she stepped forward to embrace him.

"I wish you luck Draco," she said and pulled away. He was shocked to see a single tear falling gracefully down her cheek. "You are very different to my son," she continued, almost a little mournful, "I imagine I was very proud of you."

Draco stared at her, wide eyed. "Then you know-"

"That your own mother is dead? Well – I guessed," she said kindly. "We are worlds apart Draco, but I think we are also very similar." She smiled. "We are lonely soldiers. If this to be goodbye, I can't really express what it means to have had this brief encounter. You are brave, selfless and determined, and I want you to promise me that you'll never loose that. I – I wish my own son had turned out a little more like you."

Draco stared at her again, slightly dumbstruck. What an assessment to make after only such a short space of time. "I wasn't always like this – I'm not-" he started, but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Yes you are," she told him firmly, "now you must hurry, I fear you haven't much time." Draco nodded. He gave her hand a brief squeeze, then pulled away and rushed down the stairs, not looking back to see her watching him go, as he knew she would.

He inhaled a deep, shuddery breath and blinked a few times. He had a job to do here and he couldn't afford to be distracted by his emotions. By the time he reached Ron and Hermione he was feeling quite calm and focused once again. He offered to take the lead and Ron agreed gladly. They carried on without talking until they'd passed the sixth floor, when Hermione spoke over the splashing water.

"Draco," she asked, "how come you knew where Courtroom Ten was?"

Draco allowed himself a small grin in the flickering torchlight. "That was the last place I ever saw my father," he replied, a grim satisfaction to his tone.

---

Sirius waded through the thigh high waters of the bottom floor of the Ministry of Magic, his hands above his head and a wand prodded into the small of his back. "Alright already!" he snapped as the Death Eater gave him another shove out of shear spite. There was only a couple of them now making their way along the corridor, Voldemort having disappeared to Merlin knows where after he had ordered Sirius to be escorted down to the courtrooms. They edged down a narrow flight of stone steps and further on until they reached an open set of double doors, leading into Courtroom Ten.

Sirius stepped into the chamber and was intrigued to see the water ended at the room's entrance; it seemed to be lapping at an invisible barrier that was keeping the tides at bay and the people in the courtroom dry. He only gave this a moment's thought though as he recognised some of those people in the room.

"Remus! Tonks!" he cried and made to run towards them, but the large Death Eater who had been steering him onwards grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and heaved him backwards.

"You go when I say you can go," he snapped, and Sirius couldn't help but let out an involuntary growl. His grip remained on his neck as he pushed him roughly over to where the other two captives were sat on the floor, hands bound behind their backs. Tonks looked a bit shaken, but Remus had definitely seen better days. His lip was bleeding and swollen, and his right eye socket was all blue and puffy. His breath was coming out in ragged gasps as he stared resolutely at the floor. Tonks looked briefly up at Sirius as he was shoved into a kneeling position beside them before carrying on like Remus with her study of the floor.

"Are you okay," Sirius rasped as the Death Eater walked away. The other two nodded.

"I was testing their fists and feet with my head," said Remus with a touch of a cracked smile.

"How's that working out for you?" asked Sirius, his eyes on the various men and women walking about the room.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say not good."

"What are they doing," carried on Sirius, "what do they want from us?"

Tonks shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. "I've no idea – they haven't told me anything."

"Hey!" cried out Sirius to the nearest minion pacing past them. "What the bloody Hell's going on here, where are the kids and what do you-"

But he didn't get to finish, as the man pulled out his wand and blasted him with the Crucio Curse. It only lasted a few seconds, and Sirius was on the floor, keeled over and panting, before he could even think. He spat out some blood form where he bit his tongue and looked up at the man.

"No talking," he said simply and walked off again.

"No talking," repeated Sirius meekly, and sat himself upright once again. Tonks gave him a sympathetic look.

"What's with all the water?" asked Remus. "It was spilling all over the floor a while ago, but then they put that charm on the door and it's been rising ever since."

Sirius shook his head. "I have no idea – it started flooding up on the top floor and it just seems to be making its way down here."

"What about all the people," asked Tonks, "the ones frozen down here – what'll happen to them if they get submerged?"

"Even if the water doesn't effect them whilst they're in suspended animation," said Remus, "as soon as they wake up they'll certainly drown. And there's nothing to say they wont do that anyway," he added grimly.

"Excuse me?" called out Sirius to another of the Death Eaters walking from one side of the vast chamber to the other. The older man paused and raised his eyebrows.

"Yes?" he said, a little too pleasantly to be taken genuinely.

"Can't you do something about the water out there," Sirius continued, "if it keeps going up like that those people out there will drown."

The man smiled wickedly. "And yet," he replied, "I just can't seem to care."

---

Harry grimaced as his hands burned on the course cables he was gripping so tightly to. He had performed a protection charm as well as one that would give him extra grip on the slippery metal, but he was still struggling as he descended the elevator shaft. His wand was gripped firmly between his teeth and he dared to take a look down. He actually wasn't that far off the stuck lift itself.

He wouldn't be able to continue on much further he reasoned, and decided to get off on the next level. Hopefully here he might have more luck in finding a bloody staircase, he thought frustrated.

The relief on his hands as he let go of the cable and jumped onto the lip of the fifth floor elevator doors was immense. They were red raw and bleeding slightly, but there wasn't much Harry could do about that at the moment. Taking a moment to catch his breath he pulled the wand wedged between his teeth out and held it up to the doors.

"Alohomora," he said, and to his amazement the metal panels slid open. "Whoa," said Harry in surprise, and then, "well…fantastic." He walked out into the thankfully dry corridor and looked about. It seemed all clear, so he stopped and let his wand lie flat in his palm. "Point me," he instructed it, and to his relief this time it did. There had obviously been too much interference back up on the first corridor where he had tried it before.

There were just as many people frozen down here as there had been on the other levels and they were starting to creep Harry out somewhat. How could a spell like this have overcome so many powerful witches and wizards? Maybe it was something that required an invitation, like the spell Draco had mentioned earlier. More to the point though, Harry was starting to worry if there was going to be any long term effects for these people; as far as he knew, they were already dead. He shuddered and carried on walking. Hopefully that wasn't going to be the case. Hopefully he would find the others, get them out of here, then get help for everyone else and it would all be okay.

Harry sighed. He wasn't stupid, he knew the chances of that happening were really slim to none, but he had to hold onto the idea to keep him moving forwards. Then there was the question of who there was left to ask for help once they escaped the ministry. That was something he'd have to deal with later though. Right now his preliminary concern was with staircases and finding them.

He turned a corner and stopped dead in his tracks. About ten feet in front of him stood the woman who had been instrumental in kidnapping the group from Sirius' house mere hours before. She was standing quite still, a smile on her face as if she has been waiting for him. Harry gripped his wand and locked eyes with her. It was like a stand off.

"Baby Potter," she said through her nasty grin. "You've been causing us quite a bit of trouble – I was hoping I would be the one to run into you." Harry remained still and silent. He wasn't sure how to handle this situation; he couldn't exactly turn and run – she'd curse him in the back before he could even think. But she was a dangerous witch who would most likely best him in a duel, so blasting hexes at one another was not exactly a desired outcome either. He wished he had Gryffindor's sword like he did last November; that had made short work of the traitorous vixen.

"The Dark Lord has his own plan to flush you out, but imagine how pleased he'll be when I deliver you to him myself."

Harry ground his teeth. "They'll be no 'delivering' thank you very much," he said, not taking his eyes off of her. She smiled.

"Stubborn like your father – charming. Still, it'll only get you about as far as it got him I imagine."

The retort against his father stung, but Harry merely flexed his sore fingers against the wood resting in his palm. "Where are you holding my friends?" he demanded.

"Funny you should ask," she said wickedly, "but we were hoping you'd come join them down in the dungeons. It's a regular party down in Courtroom Ten."

Fine. That was all Harry needed to know – if she was so arrogant to just tell him that was her problem. "Anime!" With a flick of his wrist her threw a spell in the direction of a suit of armour standing to attention against the wall between them. It leapt to life and swung its arm out at Bellatrix, catching her by surprise. She cried out and ducked, but it was all the distraction Harry needed to turn and bolt. She wanted to deliver him? She'd have to catch him first.

---

Sarah pulled at the ropes binding her arms to the chair. The were still as tight as ever and she'd long lost all sensation in her fingers, but the act at least made her feel a little better.

She scowled at Peter Pettigrew skulking on the fireplace. He was cleverly standing out of the water that had flooded the room not long ago, whilst Sarah could feel her toes squelching in her trainers uncomfortably. He was biting his nails and looking anxiously at the door every three seconds.

"I know who you are you know." He paused and looked over at her. She held his gaze. "You betrayed my parents."

He went back to looking at the door and scuffed his foot on the marble. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sirius told me all about it – you betrayed them to save your own skin – and look where it's got you. You're just the baby sitter."

At this he spun around and landed his hands on her arms, gripping them tightly. "Shut up!" he cried, his face two inches from her own. She swallowed and he slowly let go, white finger marks imprinted on her flesh. He walked behind her out of her line of view and started rummaging in the desk drawers.

"What's with all the water?" she asked, looking at the lake slowly rising around her ankles. She was unwilling to sit in silence, stewing in her own thoughts.

"Don't know, didn't ask," he said curtly. I'm just the babysitter, remember?"

"Oh – so you're out of the loop?" she goaded him. "I mean, no, that's okay, the less you know the better I guess in the long run. Plausible deniability."

There was a slight pause. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know, when the Ministry fall on your arse like a ton of bricks, you wont get in as much trouble as the rest." She tried to turn her wrists again, get some blood flowing down into her digits. She wasn't sure what she was hoping to accomplish by tormenting Peter, but she was carrying on with it anyway, thinking it might offer her an outlet. He dropped whatever was holding his interest and stormed round to face her.

"Just shut up okay? You're only talking to hear the sound of your own voice – you do it again, I'll have to hurt you." The words conveyed a sense of confidence, but his tone and shifty eyes told her other wise.

"You like hurting little girls do you Peter?"

He folded his arms and scowled. "No."

"Then why would you say something like that? You and Mr Grey must have a lot in common, got yourself a nice little club I bet-"

"_I said shut up!"_

He made to move towards her, arm raised, but before he could land a blow the door swung open to reveal a tall blonde woman.

"Pettigrew!" she snapped, and the man froze where he was. She walked into the room, her stride sturdy and confident, her hands behind her back. Her black robes contrasted shockingly with her shining hair and she came to a halt by the chair. "I'm quite sure The Dark Lord did not instruct you to interrogate the girl, no matter how much she might aggravate you.

"Sorry Narcissa," he said, sheepish, and stepped back.

"No harm done," she assured him, "though in future I might suggest a gag could be of use in a situation such as this." He nodded and kept his eyes to the floor. "I've been asked to escort the girl down to the courtroom, so if you'll kindly untie her I can proceed." He nodded once again and began to do as she instructed. Sarah couldn't help but increase her breathing; where was she being taken _now?_ She chanced a glance up and the woman, who caught her eye. She was surprised that her expression was almost kind, reassuring maybe? Confused, Sarah looked back down at the floor once again. It might just be some Deatheater mind trick, a good cop bad cop routine, and she wasn't going to play into their hands that easily.

The blood came rushing back into her hands and the youngest Potter let out an involuntary sigh of relief. Peter moved onto her legs, and as her left foot became free she resisted the urge to kick him in the face. If the woman wasn't standing between her and the door she might have risked an escape, but she was, so she remained seated, patiently waiting for the final rope to fall to the floor.

"Come with me child," said the blonde woman, extending her hand in a friendly but commanding gesture that encouraged Sarah to rise to her feet. She did as she was told. The two of them walked towards the door and Peter followed.

"Not you Pettigrew," snapped the lady, turning to face him, her hand firmly on Sarah's shoulder. "You are to remain her and await further instruction."

"Oh," he said, a little put out. "Well, yeah – okay. I'll just…wait here then." She smiled at the man and carried on walking. The entrance however was suddenly blocked.

A Deatheater in his thirties with prominent ears and a beer gut walked in front of them, and took the sight in with surprise. "Er…" he said, unsure. "I was told to collect the prisoner and take her down stairs?"

Narcissa paused, her grip seemed to tighten on Sarah's shoulder. There was a tense moment of silence; what the Hell was going on?

"Of course," she said pleasantly. "That's just what I was doing – lead the way." The man looked slowly between Narcissa and Peter, then turned around, heading back down the corridor with the two ladies in tow.

They walked in silence, and eventually reached a winding flight of stone steps. The Deatheater lead the way down, and Narcissa positioned Sarah between them. They had descended a couple of flights when Sarah felt the woman's hand hold her own, her step perfectly in time with her own. She didn't say anything, but instead pressed something into her palm. She looked down incredulously; it was her wand. About a million thoughts flew through her mind at once – what was this woman doing arming her? She looked around in disbelief, but Narcissa widened her eyes warningly and then turned her gaze to the young girl's pocket. Getting the message, Sarah quickly slipped the wand out of sight and carried on walking. Maybe she had an ally after all? She didn't have time to ponder though.

A voice came booming out around them, making them jump to a standstill. The Deatheater trained his wand on Sarah as they paused to listen.

"Mr Potter? Oh Mr Potter, I would so terribly like to have your attention for a moment…that is, if you're not too busy?" Sarah could practically hear the smirk over the airwaves.

"Voldemort," she muttered bitterly.

---

The blood was pumping in Harry's head; his thigh muscles were on fire. He flew down the corridor, the soles of his trainers barely touching the floor. Bellatrix couldn't be that far behind him, he'd only been able to distract her for a moment and she couldn't be as fatigued as he was after the day he'd had. Although his abnormally high adrenaline levels must be working in his favour, he reasoned. The ringing in his ears was spurring him on, leaving the older witch behind.

Why does this always happen to me? he wondered as he came to a crossroads. He gulped down air as he paused, then sprinted off right. This morning he'd just been worrying about his charms homework, and Quidditch, and other stuff normal 16 year old wizards had to worry about. Maybe that watcher was right, maybe his life really was cursed, or blessed, or how ever the Hell he'd put it.

"Mr Potter?" Harry spun around and flattened himself again the wall. The tapestry squished against his back made to protest, but Harry ignored it.

"Oh Mr Potter, I would so terribly like to have your attention for a moment…that is, if you're not too busy?"

"Voldemort," Harry said aloud, forgetting his pursuer for a moment.

"I know you're out there, scurrying about, causing trouble as usual," the voice continued to boom across the floors of the Ministry. Harry guessed he was using a Sonorus spell like Fudge had at the World Cup a couple of summers ago. He flexed his sore fingers around his wand, then started walking quickly but quietly onwards. He couldn't risk getting caught now.

"I was hoping we could have a little chat – just you and I. Oh! And your friends of course, I think your Godfather in particular is _quite _keen to see you."

Harry paused and strained his ears, trying to block out Voldemort. He could definitely hear footfalls running not too far behind. He swiftly slipped into the nearest doorway and found himself in what appeared to be some kind of testing facility. He couldn't help but take a moment to gape at the assault course that lay before him, it was like a maze of ropes and beams, slides and tunnels, like an old wooden children's playground, but adult size and somewhat more sinister. What on Earth was this doing here? he wondered, then shrugged it off. Why were half the things in this crazy building, he reasoned and made his way forward into a small, round tunnel.

"If you'd like to join us, Mr Potter, I'd make your way down to the dungeons, Courtroom Ten has been set up especially for you." Harry pulled himself up and over a large wooden platform and found himself looking downwards into a stretch of nothingness with hoops on ropes hanging from the low ceiling. Across the void was another platform and a tunnel and twisted out of sight. There were wooden walls twenty feet to his left and right. He sighed and put his wand between his teeth. If he could make it across he could wait a while, and the make his way back when Bellatrix had passed. He was very aware of not going so far in that he got lost. That would be really embarrassing.

"Of course, if you don't come soon, I can't guarantee all your friends will still be here when you arrive – and that would be a terrible shame, wouldn't it?"

Harry gripped the cool metal ring in his sore hand. It was actually quite soothing until he put his weight on it, then it began to sting a little. He ignored it.

"Let's say half and hour, hmm? Then we can talk again, wherever you've found yourself to be." The voice disappeared and there was something about the air that told Harry he'd said all he wanted to for now, like the hum of a TV set going off that you weren't even aware of until its absence.

He grunted and swung to catch the next hoop. So, he had half an hour to not only find Sirius and the others, but come up with a plan so that when he arrived he wouldn't just end up captured and useless like the rest. He sighed, and carried on moving; he wished he wasn't alone.

"Oh look – a little baby Potter all helpless and hanging from the ceiling – what a sight."

Harry turned his head and looked back to where Bellatrix was standing on the raised wooden platform, hands on hips, slightly out of breath and a wicked look in her eyes. He could just about make out the outline of the door ten feet or so behind her. He managed a very Sirius like grown and swung round to face her properly. He was maybe a third of the way out.

"You heard what the Dark Lord said – you haven't got a choice." Harry raised an eyebrow. People telling him he didn't have a choice was one thing that was sure to get him aggravated. She slowly pulled her wand out from inside her robes, running through her fingers then resting the end on her cheek. "So why don't you be a good little boy and swing on back over here?"

Harry braced himself and then let go of one of the rings, putting all his weight on his left arm, and took his wand from out of his mouth. "Go to Hell," he said darkly, and pointed his waned at her. She pursed her lips.

"Fine."

She threw the hex at Harry so fast he didn't even have time to move. So it was a good job nothing actually came out of the wand. She looked at it incredulously, then back up at Harry, who was swinging dangerously on his trembling arm. She gritted her teeth and stuffed the wand furiously back into her robes.

"A dampening field," she said, more to herself than Harry he guessed. She reached up and grabbed the nearest metal hoops in her hands. "I'll just have to get you myself then – you hear me?" He certainly had.

He tucked his own useless wand into the back of his jeans and swung to seize a hoop with his right hand, mercifully evening out his weight. She was steadily making her way towards him, her upper body strength pretty impressive for an older woman. He was easing left, circling her as she came.

"This is an Aurora training facility Potter," she grunted, heaving her weight for one ring to the next. "Except the safety features are off – do you know what that means? He allowed her a look as he rocked his body and took a hold of yet another ring. He didn't know how long he could keep this up for, his hands were sweating and already sore from the lift cables and his arms were tiring out. Maybe he could make it back to the platform before her and run again?

"It means that if we fall, it's so far down we'd probably loose consciousness before we hit the bottom. Isn't that exciting?"

"You need to get out more," he said, hoping to distract her from his destination. "I mean seriously, there's a big wide world out the beyond the whole 'I'm an evil crackpot' shtick. You could try a language class, or amateur dramatics – there are lots of crazy types there, you'd fit right in."

"Oh shut up you little idiot," she snapped and swung in the opposite direction to where he thought she was going to. He couldn't stop his own momentum, and now they were not only a lot closer, but she was blocking his way to the platform. "Going somewhere?" She suddenly heaved her body up, swung backwards and then forwards, aiming a kick at his torso; it connected painfully, knocking the wind out of him.

"Bitch!" he cried out, losing his left hand grip for a moment, then vaulting back to take a shot at her. She moved out the way but Harry grabbed another ring instead and found himself within a metre of the treacherous witch. He head butted her in the face and she let out an impressive yelp. Before he could get his balance though she had her hand around his throat, long nails digging into his flesh.

"You will come with me now," she hissed through a bleeding lip. "And when I deliver you to my master, I will watch you beg for you life."

Harry smacked her hand away with such force he wasn't sure where he'd got the strength from. It was all that was needed though, not only dislodging her grip from his neck, but the metal hoop slipped out from between her fingers on her other hand as well. She eyes snapped open as gravity seized her, but before she could plummet into oblivion Harry instinctively threw out his hand and grabbed her wrist.

The new weight on his arm was almost unbelievable.

"Don't let go!" she shrieked, reaching up and taking his wrist with her other hand.

"I can't hold on," he grunted, trying to swing her up. "Reach for a ring!"

"They're too far – please – I'll help you! Don't drop me!"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut in concentration. "Reach up! I can't hold you!" She tried again but was still a metre or two away. She was crying in panic now.

"There's a secret entrance to – to the dungeon, through Courtroom Seven, I'll show you, just don't-"

"I'm no going to drop you!" he yelled in frustration. "Keep trying!" He swung her again, but he could feel his hold on her velvety gown slipping.

"Pull your robe down," he gasped, "I need to hold onto flesh. She tugged the material free, then reached up again as the arch of his swing brought her within a foot of the rings.

"Nearly – there!" she cried, but Harry's shaking limbs were giving out. She was too far away to throw towards the platform, but he didn't know how many more times he could swing her.

Her wrist slipped through his fingers and suddenly they were gripping palms. "No!" she screamed and clawed desperately up his arm. The fingers holding onto the hoop felt like they were going to snap. In her panic she halted the swinging momentum they'd been able to build, and was now just a dead weight, flailing on the end of his tired, aching arm.

"Hold on," he said, his eyes fixed on his hand, willing it not to fail. But it was no good.

Bellatrix Lestrange looked into his eyes and their fingers slipped one by one apart.

"No," he whispered.

She fell, her scream piercing the otherwise silent room. Harry watched in horror as she disappeared into the blackness, her voice becoming fainter and fainter. He didn't have time to waste. He lifted his arm, on fire from the strain, and grabbed the nearest ring, swinging desperately back towards the platform. It maybe took ten seconds but it felt like he was moving in slow motion. As he reached the wooden boards he stretched out his feet and landed, crumpling into a shattered heap. He tried to steady his breathing for fear of hyperventilation, and realised with a sickening jolt that Bellatrix's screaming had stopped.

His cheek was resting on the cool wood floor, his gaze fixed on the door way ahead. His body felt like it had moulded to the platform and would never move again, but that wasn't an option. Gradually, he heaved himself off the floor and managed to stand. He looked down into the blackness he'd been hanging over.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, before turning around, unsheathing his wand, and started walking in what he hoped was the direction of Courtroom Number Seven.

---

Draco, Ron and Hermione were looking as stealthily around the corner of the corridor as they could, but given the fact they were treading water it was a little tricky. That and the fact there was a Deatheater blocking their way forward, sitting in a wooden boat that he'd probably conjured to keep himself out of the flooding..

"Is there another way around?" Hermione asked hopefully, but Draco shook his head.

"We have to get to the staircase behind him, it leads down into the Courtroom." He moved backwards and faced the other two students. "That does take us to the front door though – we'd just be walking into the middle of everything. Maybe we should take a moment to think." Hermione nodded, as did Ron. His hand was resting on a picture frame, helping him stay above water. Their feet were just off the floor, and even though they still had a good few feet before the water reached the ceiling the feeling of claustrophobia was still pressing down on them.

Hermione's teeth were chattering. The water was pretty damn cold and they'd been submerged for a good ten minutes now. "Maybe we could create a diversion?"

"We need to know what we're up against really," said Ron, his red hair slicked back to keep it out of his eyes. "If we could only get a look in first, then we'd see how many there are of them and stuff." Draco nodded.

"It's not going to be much of a rescue if we only end up getting caught ourselves."

"Well yes, that would be a crying shame now wouldn't it my son?"

The three of them spun round and looked up in shock at the Deatheater perched in the boat. He'd managed to sneak up on them without even barely causing a ripple. He smiled down at them, revealing blackened teeth. "Going somewhere?"

He had a thick London accent and an attitude that Draco generally associated with hired muscle. "No – you are," he said and blasted the boat back with a flick of his wand, taking the man by surprise. "Come on!" he cried at the other two, and plunged under the water, hoping they weren't too far behind. He could barely see anything in the murky gloom, but enough of the torch light was filtering though for him to make his way towards the door. He was banking on the fact that if they were under water the older man wouldn't be able to see them, at least for a moment, and they could get away into the Courtroom entrance. Draco kept swimming until his fingers could reach out and hold onto the door frame, beyond that a small staircase would take them into the dungeon, but when he looked back around he realised with a sickening lurch that he was on his own. He looked from left to right, peering desperately into the distance but he couldn't see either Hermione or Ron. Panic was threatening to let the air escape from his lungs before he could resurface. He tried to calm down but it was no good.

Stealing himself for the worst he pushed himself off the stone floor and let his head break through up into the air once more. He gasped in a lungful and looked desperately around; he didn't need to look for long. Hermione had been caught around the throat by the Deatheater, still in his boat, though somewhat more damp and incensed looking. Ron was treading water a couple of meters away, his hands in the air; he looked at Draco as he shook his hair from off his face.

"Shit," muttered Draco under his breath.

"Now, now," said the man in his cockney accent. "Don't lets be getting rude, no need for that."

"What do you want?" snapped Ron.

"Well I want you to come for a little paddle with me of course," he said, grinning wickedly. He pointed in the direction of the courtroom with the wand in his free hand. "So lets be having you, and if you're good lads, I'll not hurt the lady here."

Draco clenched his jaw together so tightly he thought it might snap.

"It'll be our pleasure."

---

Harry rested his head on the heavy wooden door. What had he done? He ached all over, it was enough effort just to keep his limbs doing what they were supposed to. He couldn't afford to rest though; people were depending on him. And he was sick of watching people die.

He gently pushed the door open to Courtroom Number Seven. Having found his way down the stairs he was immensely relieved to discover that all the Courtrooms were sign posted, and it had been a relatively easy task locating the one he needed.

He was far more concerned to learn that all the water that was obviously still churning out from the fountain he had accidentally cursed was amassing down on the bottom floor, flooding it at an alarming rate. Where he was standing it was almost waist level, and he had gathered from the sign posts that Courtrooms Eight to Ten were even further downwards. They must be completely submerged, he though as he waded into the smallish room. Was Voldemort even down here – maybe he was just trying to trick him into drowning himself?

Harry shrugged it off. Both him and Bellatrix had said that Sirius and the others were down here, so he would just have to go on that and worry about the consequences later. First he would have to work out how to get into Courtroom Ten. And he had absolutely no idea where to start.

He looked about the room; it was wooden panelled with portraits hanging on the wall of what Harry guessed to be old judges. Two of them were whispering and looking scornfully down at the young wizard.

"What's all this bother then?" asked an old boy with a strong Welsh accent. The name on his portrait read Sir William Bompkins. "This is all very irregular."

"Er," said Harry, not expecting to have to make small talk with the artwork. "Well, I guess Voldemort's taken over the Ministry…and Hogwarts. Everyone's under a spell, and they're frozen stiff, and I came here to rescue my friends…that he kidnapped, but then I got in a fight and blew up a fountain upstairs, and now that's flooding the whole building. And then I had a sort of duel with a witch…I, well I guess you could say I won. But she lead me down here first. Oh - and I'm Harry Potter…by the way."

When he said it all out loud like that it sounded a little preposterous. He looked up at the painting and shrugged his shoulders.

"Good Lord!" said the woman (Lady Elizabeth Cockleton according to her empty frame) and put her gloved hand on the Welsh man's shoulder. "What frightful business."

"Yes…well, now I'm trying to get to my friends – to rescue them," he paused, thinking. "They're in Courtroom Ten – apparently there's a secret entrance, somewhere in here?"

The two old judges looked at one another. "Dear me," said the Sir William, and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I do recall there is, but nobody's used it in decades."

"Not since the war," said the lady, nodding her head in agreement.

Harry ran a wet hand through his hair. His trainers were becoming all the more uncomfortable; he could feel his feet squidging about in his socks and his jeans were becoming increasingly heavy. "You wouldn't happen to know where it is would you?"

"Hmm, let me see," pondered Sir William, "I only ever saw maybe one or two people use it…"

"Ask old Arthur!" piped up Elizabeth Cockleton. "Arthur, Arthur do wake up!" She was yelling at a painting of a man with a ruffled collar, fast asleep in a portrait across the room. He awoke with a snuffle.

"Man the pig sty!" he cried with a snore, then blinked and looked around.

"Er – could we try and keep it down?" asked Harry nervously. "There are still lots of evil people lurking about."

"Oh of course my dear," said Elizabeth kindly. "Arthur – where's that hidden door the ruffians used to use? Back in the war?"

"Oh damn silly business if you ask me," he said sniffing and scratching his head. "In my day wizards didn't run around playing spies – they left that to the Muggles." He yawned, widely, and made as if to go back to sleep. Lady Elizabeth was having none of that.

"Arthur!" she snapped. "We did not enquire after your opinion – the young gentleman here is in a bit of a crisis and would really rather like to know how to get into the large Courtroom."

Arthur ruffled himself like a peacock. "Alright, calm yourself woman," he said scornfully. She ignored the rebuff and raised her eyebrow expectedly. He sighed. "There's a panel that slides open – under the two swords mounted on the shield – over there on the wall." Harry turned and looked at the ornate weaponry affixed to the wooden panelling.

"Er..."he said slowly. "So – it's underwater?"

"Not afraid of a little water are you boy?" said Arthur patronisingly. "In my day-"

"Oh go back to sleep Arthur," said Elizabeth Cockleton, "we shall wake you if anything eventful should happen."

"Hmf," was all he said, but apart from that he seemed quite happy to snuggle back down against his frame and doze off once again.

"There you are lad!" said Sir William. "That should get you where you want to go shouldn't it?" Harry looked dubiously at the spot the other painting had indicated.

"What if I open the panel and it sucks all the water down with me – like a plug hole?"

"What if you stand here wondering and you don't get to your friends in time?" Harry looked up at the two old judges sharing the frame and nodded.

"You're right – I'll just have to risk it."

"That's the spirit," said William positively.

"Right," said Harry, clapping his hands together to try and get some feeling back into them. He instantly wished he hadn't, as the feeling that returned was a dull, throbbing ache. "Right – yes, no problem, I swam under the Great Lake, this should be…easy." He took a deep breath and crouched under the water, letting his legs float out behind him so he was hovering off the ground, looking directly at the wooden panel.

He swam forward a little bit and placed his hands firmly onto the wall, giving it a good solid push. He was hugely relieved when it clicked backwards and slid to the right, exposing a hidden passageway about two foot high and wide. He smiled and reached forward grabbing the edges and pulling himself towards the gap, careful not to let his glasses float entirely off his face.

As he travelled through the threshold he was surprised to discover that the water ended where the wall was, like an invisible barrier was holding it back. He pushed his head through the membrane and took a fresh breath of cold air. He pulled the rest of his body through and found himself in a small stone tunnel a little bigger than the secret panel and lit dimly by a handful of torches bracketed to the wall. Who lights those things? Harry couldn't help but wonder absently.

The tunnel turned 90 degrees to the right a couple of metres ahead, so with little time to be wasted Harry started crawling along, wand back in hand in case of any nasty surprises. There was a cold breeze blowing against his face, but apart from that is was quiet. Harry found his mind was wondering off in unpleasant directions as he carried on painfully on hand and knee, dirt clinging to his sodden clothes. What if he was too late? What did Voldemort want with him when he got there, and how was he going to fight him? What had happened to Bellatrix?

A sudden noise brought him back to reality. It was a girl, crying out in pain, followed by some shouting.

"– you touch her!"

Harry froze. He knew that voice. It was Draco. A thrill of determination burst out from somewhere within his chest, and he scurried as quickly and quietly as he could along the tunnel. He very soon found himself eye level with a small wooden panel attached to the wall on a short metal track. He pressed his ear up to it.

"They haven't done anything!" came a different voice through the gaps between the wood and the wall. It was Sirius.

As carefully as he could, Harry slid the little panel back to reveal a couple of eye holes for him to look through – he bet any money you like they were part of a painting. How clichéd. He pressed his face up and looked through into the room. He was high up, behind the last row of seats facing downwards into the auditorium. Sirius, Remus and Tonks were kneeling on the floor in the well of the Courtroom, Sirius being forced to do so by two Deatheaters pushing down onto his shoulders.

"Now, now, let's not have any trouble," came a voice from a source Harry couldn't identify.

Ron and Draco had just been pushed through a door on the opposite wall to the one Harry was looking through and were standing, their hands being tied behind their backs by a couple of other Deatheaters. One of them had obviously just pushed Hermione roughly to the floor where she was half kneeling, half lying, blood trickling down her head, biting her lip from the pain. Draco and Ron were fighting against the Deatheaters trying to restrain them. All three students were dripping wet, and Harry saw that the water being held back by the magical barrier was all the way above the door frame.

"Give me back me wand and I'll show you trouble!" snarled Draco at a tall, overweight woman circling the proceedings. She smiled sickeningly, their confiscated wands in hand; Harry guessed it was her who had just spoken.

There had to be a way to get into the room, thought Harry desperately as he looked around the tunnel, searching for a clue. There was a bronze lever on the floor a few feet away. That had to be it – surely? Damn it he didn't have time to think, so he just snatched a hold of it and yanked it as hard as he could. It was stiff, but he pulled it all the way to the ground in one swift motion.

There was the softest of clinks somewhere within the wall and yet another panel, about the same size as the one in Courtroom Seven, slid open. Harry blew out a sigh of relief and crawled through it without pause for thought.

There was about twenty feet of seats that gradually descended and ended in a barrier, bottom half stone, top half gold railings. Beyond that there was a drop of about seven feet into the large well where everyone was congregated. Harry kept crouched down and sped along the aisle of stone steps leading to the barrier.

"He has one minute," said the overweight woman to the prisoners, all now kneeing in front of her. There was a small pause. Harry had dropped below the line of sight and could no longer see what was happening.

"Then what?" demanded Sirius. Harry reached the railings and ducked behind the stone bricks. He peeped over the edge. The woman gave her wicked grin once again and Sirius struggled against his restraints. "I said _then what?"_

"Then I get to choose," she said, a glint in her eyes as she placed the collection of wands onto a large mahogany desk standing below where Harry was concealed. "I really am disappointed in young Mr Potter, I thought Gryffindors were supposed to have more _loyalty_ and _courage_ and so on and so forth."

"W-what do you mean choose?" stammered Tonks.

Remus looked at her, then back to the woman. "Look," he pleaded, "just leave the kids alone – please – don't–"

"I'll do what I like, thank you very much Mr Lupin – ah look at that! What a shame." She put the pocket watch she'd been monitoring away. "Time's up."

Suddenly two of the bigger Deatheaters moved forwards and took a hold of Sirius, hoisting him off the floor. He kicked out in protest, but he was just no match for them in size.

"H-hey! Let him go!" shrieked Hermione, but the remaining prisoners where held back by a number of determined Deatheaters.

"You cowards!" yelled Draco, "you're just going to kill him? Like a _dog?"_

The woman smiled as Sirius was held in front of her. "Seems a fitting end from what I know about Mr Black here." She stepped forward and took his jaw in her hand; she seemed to have a surprisingly strong grip. "Oh don't worry love," she said in an audible whisper, "at least you'll die knowing at was _all_ your godson's fault."

She released him and stepped backwards once more. "Goodbye Sirius." She levelled her wand at his chest.

"NO!" screamed Tonks.

Enough, thought Harry; enough's enough. I've seen one too many people die today.

He grabbed a hold of the metal bar, swung himself over and dropped down onto the wooden desk with a crash that made everyone jump and look. He stood, up fully aware he now commanded the attention of everybody from his elevated position. Perfect.

"Oh – I'm so sorry. Did you miss me?"


	7. In The Shadows

Chapter Seven -

In The Shadows

_They say_

_That I must learn to kill be fore I can feel safe_

_But I_

_Would rather kill myself than turn into their slave_

_Sometimes_

_I feel that I should go and play with the thunder_

_Somehow_

_I just don't want to stay and wait for 'I wonder'_

_I've been watching, I've been waiting_

_In the shadows_

_All my time_

_I've been searching, I've been living_

_For tomorrows_

_All my life_

_The Rasmus_

There was a moment were nobody moved a muscle. Before any of the Deatheaters had time to react Harry jumped off the table, firing a spell at his captive friends as he went.

"_Libermento!"_

It was shoddy but it did the trick well enough. With a roar people flung their bodies in every direction, madly untangling limbs and robes and hair. Harry slammed his hand onto the table he had previously been standing on, grasping at the stolen wands that had proudly been on display. He thrust them at his Godfather.

"Here!" he hissed. "We've got to get out of here!"

Sirius actually managed to take a moment to look appalled.

"No – really?" He snatched the wands from Harry's grip in a flash and started hurtling in the direction of their owners. "Moony!" he yelled as the werewolf shoved off a Deatheater with black hair and expensive looking robes. He span round and caught his wand by mere fingertips. With a flash of emerald sparks there were suddenly a few less Deatheaters surrounding the party of friends.

"Retreat!" yelled Remus grabbing Tonks by the wrist and fleeing backwards, tripping over his own feet but still moving towards the short staircase. Draco hoisted Hermione off the stone floor, blood matting her bushy brown hair; she wiped it aside and groped desperately for her wand from the collection in Sirius' hands.

"Let me – _explliarmus_!" she cried, having sourced the correct little stick of wood and flicked it expertly in the direction of their enemy. Harry fired off a few spells of his own as they charged up the steps, leading them to the elevated tiers. They ducked behind the ledge as curses exploded above them and he felt a hand squeeze his arm.

"Good to see you mate," breathed Ron with a nod of the head. A sudden Whiddening Hex made them jump into further movement, and Harry took a moment to take in the faces of the people he had been hoping against hope were still alive as they raced along the front row; Ron, Hermione, Draco - Sirius, Remus, Tonks. He gulped down a lungful of air and came to a painful halt on his knees again, spells still raging over his head.

"I don't know what's happening but Voldemort called me down here," began the young Gryffindor.

"There's a prophecy," interrupted Draco, still clinging onto a resolute looking Hermione. "We're not sure, but we think it's the one I told you back in my world, so my mother-that-isn't-my-mother said." He paused for thought. "Oh, and glad you're alive and everything."

Harry allowed himself a brief grin. "It's definitely to do with Dimensional Hotspots," added Hermione as another curse flew over them and Sirius shot something nasty back, impressive profanities rolling off his tongue with an ease Harry had grown to love. "There was a file we found – they'd obviously found it first and emptied it, but I think-"

Harry waved her off and ducked from flying debris; Remus and Tonks seemed to be in a shockingly succinct pattern of retaliation, firing spell after spell and keeping the Deatheaters at an acceptable distance. Harry knew it wouldn't last so he had to act quickly.

"Whatever the prophecy is it wont take long for Voldemort to get down here," he gasped as they moved along the wall in their funny crab-crouch walk. His thighs were burning but he blocked it out. "We need to beat them down and escape, but we also need to shut off the water – people are going to drown-"

"I'll do it," said Hermione cutting him off as he'd done to her. "I'm just not sure-"

"The source is a fountain on the ground floor – I accidentally deflected a curse onto it, don't know what but if you make it to the top tier of seats there's a secret passage way you can you to get to Courtroom Seven." The young witch looked into his eyes, but it was Draco who spoke.

"We'll go – hold the fort, we'll fix the fountain and come back."

"Raise the bloody alarm whilst you're at it!" cried Sirius as he dropped to avoid a Hippilty Curse from the tall, simpering woman who had so enjoyed tormenting the group prior to Harry's arrival.

Draco and Hermione nodded grimly. Ron caught Draco's arm as they made to move. "Good luck," he muttered, and hugged Hermione briefly, before jumping up and shooting several choice spells into the pit of Deatheaters. Harry watched the unlikely pair sprint up the stairs to the hidden entrance with a sense of foreboding worming in his stomach. Now what?

--

Draco's mind was whirling. Harry had literally, once again, just dropped back into his life and saved it. As he and Hermione dashed up the stairs he wondered briefly what the others would do when The Dark…Voldemort showed up, but he realised he couldn't dwell on that now.

"Here!" shouted Hermione as she reached a gap in the wall, and scrambled through before Draco could protest. With one last fleeting glance at the mayhem behind him, he dropped to his hands and knees and scurried after her. They sped along a passage way that turned a few times, before Hermione stopped dead. Draco was very lucky not to crash straight into her…well the part of her body closest to him at that time. He scraped his hand against the wall and tried to peer over her shoulder to see what was blocking them. Hermione leant to the side to accommodate his view, and he found himself pressed against her rising chest. Now he could see what the problem was.

"That, appears to be a wall of water," he said, quite calmly all things considered. It was taking all his energy to focus on the aquatic barrier and not the heat rising from the girl's body beneath him. There's a bloody time and place he told himself sternly.

"It's like the doorway we swam through before," she summarised logically. "I bet Courtroom Seven's through there, just like Harry said."

"Whether or not there's any air left in it's another matter I guess." Draco rubbed his throbbing forehead. "Oh sod it, time is not our friend right now - get behind me."

Hermione looked uncertainly at his face mere inches from her own. "What are you doing?" They awkwardly switched positions so Draco was now the closest to the water. He scraped his elbow through his shirt and banged his head, but it seemed pointless to complain with the multitude of other problems they had right then.

"I'll swim in and see - if there's room to breathe I'll come back down and give you the signal."

She looked at him with those big brown eyes. "Okay," she said shakily. "Be careful."

Before he could restrain himself he found his fingers lightly touching her face. Their eyes met. He snatched both hand and gaze away again before she had time to react, turned, and plunged into the freezing water. He couldn't help but splurt out some of the air he was trying to hold onto as the cold hit his skin. He forced himself to go forwards a few strokes before heading up; he broke the surface of the rising water and found there was about two feet between him and the ceiling. Brilliant.

"You there!"

The man's voice made him jump round and slip under the water again for a moment. He surfaced once more and, treading water, located the source. A man and a woman who looked like they might have once been judges had their heads cramped into the very top of their portrait frame and were looking at Draco in alarm.

"What happened to the black haired boy?" demanded the man in a Welsh accent.

"Yes - did he make it to his friends?" piped up the woman, "we've been dreadfully worried."

"Er…" said Draco, his chest hurting from the cold. "Yeah - yeah he got there just in time, they're all dulling now. But we have to stop the water - get to some fountain in the main hall?"

"Who's 'we'," asked the man dubiously.

With a sharp, wet intake of breathe, Draco realised he'd forgotten Hermione, and without a word he shot back under the water until he was level with the young witch waiting anxiously on the other side of the barrier. He motioned as best he could for her to follow, and with one last look over her should she did just that. He reached out for her hand and they swam up to the top together.

"Oh I _see_," said the woman as Hermione shook her sopping hair out of her face.

"How do we get do the main hall?" Asked Draco, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. Hermione's lips were turning blue as they trod water side by side.

"Easy!" cried the Welsh judge. "Just head out of this courtroom, turn right and follow the corridor along to the elevator-"

"Elevator's b-broken," stammered Hermione, "coz of the w-water."

"Blast." The painting looked stumped. Draco was starting to get extremely agitated; they didn't have time for this!

"Oh, I know!" said the lady, enthused. "Use the dumb-waiter - the one in the master study out on the left there - that'll take you to the third floor where you can find Tandy Spinks office. She always had a bit of a thing about goblin rebellions - her office has some kind of secret route up to the top floor."

"What k-kind of route?" spluttered Draco.

The lady gave him a scornful look. "Well how should I know - it's _secret_."

--

Sarah looked from the blond woman called Narcissa, to the Deatheater pacing back and forth. Her sweating hands were stuffed in her pockets, the left one gripping her wand tightly. They had been on their way down to Courtroom Ten when they'd hit a staircase that seemed to descend into black watery depths. They were currently held up in the corridor before this, looking down at their obstacle as water gently rushed past their feet, insuring the surface kept rising. The Deatheater with the prominent ears was ringing his hands as he walked from wall to wall.

"Nobody said nothing about water, can't swim, what'll they say…"

The lady in the sumptuous black robes watched him with a cool look of indifference. "You were unaware of the situation?" she asked. Sarah honestly couldn't work out if she was trying to console or provoke the man.

"Been on the top floor ma'am, saw there was stuff coming from the fountain, but I didn't - no one said I'd have to go underwater - I don't want to make anyone mad…"

It was clear who he was talking about, and Sarah knew well enough that Voldemort would probably be very mad if his orders were not followed as he wished.

"Is The Dark Lord in Courtroom Ten yet?" asked Narcissa neutrally.

The Deatheater stopped pacing. "Er - don't think so, I was told-"

But he didn't get to finish his sentence. Quick as a flash Narcissa had pulled out her wand and hit the man with a yellow curse that made him crumple to the ground instantly. Sarah opened her mouth to speak but the woman grabbed her shoulder.

"We haven't much time, you must follow me now - your brother sent me." They were running along the corridor, heading to the stairs they had just walked down.

"Harry!" Sarah cried, "but how-"

The two came to a sudden halt, feet rooted to the floor. There were three men standing looking down from the steps in front of them.

"Well," said the one at the front. "Isn't this interesting?"

--

Draco cursed loudly as he rummaged through a draw that had one too many prickle pouches in for his liking. Hermione and him had managed to find the dumb-waiter and ride it, all be it rather squashed, up to the third floor. They'd followed the painting's directions to Tandy Spinks office, but had then spent the last ten minutes in a frustrating search for whatever secret passage was allegedly hidden here. As far as they could tell, there were no stairs tucked behind a secret panel, no fire place with an autonomous Floo connection and no portkeys…but then how could you ever really be sure there were no portkeys?

"This is useless," cried Draco angrily. "They could be dead and we're pissing about trying to find a magic carpet!"

"They are not dead," said Hermione sternly, not even looking up at him from the book shelf she was analysing intently. "We just need to…think outside the box."

"How bout I just smash the box?" replied Draco petulantly to himself. He was running over all the secret passages he'd ever come across; at home, at Hogwarts, at houses of other Deatheaters. There seemed to be nothing similar in this room at all.

All of a sudden there was a sound like wind rushing down a chimney in a terrible gale. Draco spun round to see Hermione standing by the desk, the dainty lid of a trinket box in her fingers. A purple, glittering mist swept past him, blowing back his hair and clothes. The pair watched the mist do a circuit of the office, then splash itself onto a wall adorned only with a coat of arms. The shield and crossed swords seemed to absorb the mist and now glittered faintly purple; the two centaurs on the shield who had previously been frozen with the front legs rearing at one another came to life and backed away from each other, shaking as if they were stiff. The engraving on the left suddenly looked suspicious.

"Where is Miss Spinks?" he demanded.

"She's in trouble - we don't know where but we're trying to help," said Hermione quickly. "We're looking for a secret passageway to the main hall…could you help?"

"We need an offering," said the centaur on the right.

Draco turn to look at Hermione with an utterly appalled look on his face. "Am I seriously being asked for a bribe by a sketch of a horse?"

Both of the engravings reared up in anger. "How dare you insult us so human!" the one on the left cried as Hermione waved Draco quiet.

"Shh Draco! I think this may be what we're looking for." She turned to face the shield once more. "What kind of offering do you need?"

"The oldest kind," replied the centaur a little calmer as his companion pawed his hooves on the ground.

Hermione looked blankly at Draco. "What does that mean?" Draco had a good guess. Without saying a word he unsheathed one of the swords from behind the shield and, ignoring Hermione's cry of protest, ran the blade along his palm. He inhaled as the sharp pain burned his nerves and bright red blood spurted from the wound. He wiped the blade and carefully slid it back where it belonged.

"Here we go," he said to the girl by his side, and rubbed his sore hand across the shield.

Nothing happened.

"Well…now I feel silly."

But just then the centaur who had shouted at them seemed to smile, before he and the other engraving froze back into their original positions. Cracks slowly appeared in the wall, and with a creak a door swung gently open. There was a staircase winding upwards.

"Marvellous."

--

Harry was starting to run out of ideas. The two sides seemed to be at a stalemate; they had been pretty lucky so far in hitting several of the Deatheaters from their lofty position, but the ones that were left had got themselves good hiding places and were refusing to budge.

"Harry!" He looked to where his godfather was crouched a few feet away. Sirius had received quite a nasty blow to his shoulder but was presently ignoring it. "Harry," he hissed again, "we've got to move. We can't hang about, who knows how long it'll be until-"

But he didn't get to finish his sentence.

"Harry James Potter," came a very calm, snake like voice from below in the auditorium. The whole room was suddenly very still. Harry's breath tasted dry on his tongue; he didn't need to look to see who the voice belonged to. His wand felt hot in his hand as he squeezed his fist around the wood. His mind raced with a million ideas of what he should do next, but it seemed his legs had already decided for him.

Ignoring the fervoured "Harry, no!" from his godfather, he stood slowly up, his shoulders back, his gaze steady. There were two new additions to the room, one with shining blond hair and a serpentine cane, the other with a pale snake like face and glowing red eyes. They were standing coolly in the very centre of the stone floor, their eyes on Harry, a slight smile on both their features. Unlike everyone else they didn't appear to have a drop of water on them. Harry could feel all eyes once again turn in his direction, but this time he felt far from in control. He took a deep breath.

"Lucious," he said with a nod. "Voldemort."

--

Draco didn't even pause as he wiped his bloody hand on the brick wall blocking the top of the spiral staircase. It melted away and he and Hermione ran into the Main Hall of the Ministry of Magic, panting slightly from all the running they'd been doing. At the centre of the room a majestic, though broken fountain stood churning out water at an alarming rate. The brick wall re-materialised, letting only a small amount of water down to Tandy Spinks' office, and the pair splashed their way over to the fountain.

As they ground to a halt Hermione whipped her wand out and started murmuring spells. Draco too removed his wand from his pocket but honestly didn't know where to start with any counter spell; they weren't exactly the kind he'd been taught. He used a crude charm he'd been taught a couple of years ago to heal his hand, and then turned his attention to the fountain. Hermione was circling it, shooting out spells as she thought of them, but none seemed to be having the desired effect. One made the water bubble furiously until she undid it, and another turned the contents a greenish blue colour.

Draco jumped back as the liquid overflowed past his feet, but it was apparently harmless. Hermione screwed up her face in concentration, then suddenly with a look of relief cried out "unhindras aquamalious!"

Draco watched with bated breath as the water slowly stopped churning, and then…

"You did it!" He flung his arms around the girl, big grins on both their faces as water started rushing in the opposite direction back into the golden fountain. They pulled out of the hug, smiling, their faces close to each other. The moment hung. With a nervous laugh Draco let go of Hermione and stepped back. She laughed to and folded her arms, then ran her hands over her head, sweeping back her hair.

"Right - back downstairs I guess. Goodness only knows what's been happening." She made to head back to the secret passage, but Draco stepped in front of her.

"Um…I'm thinking no."

An icy looked descended onto Hermione's features. He saw her grip tighten on her wand. "Don't you want to help our friends?" she asked slowly and coldly, making Draco's insides rinse hot.

"Oh - oh God no - I mean yes! I mean," he stammered, shaking his hands in what he hoped was a reassuring motion. "We don't know how many Deatheaters there are - we need reinforcements. There are hundreds of Ministry officials here who could help us, and we probably shouldn't leave them frozen for any longer than they have been - that's what I meant. We should try and thaw everyone out whilst we can!"

A look of relief and slight embarrassment replaced the mistrust on Hermione's face. "Oh, I'm - I'm really sorry - I'm just used the old Malfoy and I thought…" She shook her head. "You're totally right. But I have no idea how to help these people."

"Well - what do you think-" began Draco, but he was interrupted.

"Hello there," cried a Welsh voice. "Did you do it?" The two judges from Courtroom Seven had appeared in an very large painting of a landscape on the wall close to them. They looked out of breath.

"Oh William you can see they have," the lady judge scolded. "Well done," she added sincerely to the two youngsters.

"Er thanks," said Hermione. Draco shook his head to regain his train of thought. Frozen people - cure. "Ah - yeah," he said, " I was going to ask if you had any idea what could be causing it."

Hermione bit her lip and thought. "It could be all kinds of things. But to have remained unbroken by anyone I would guess maybe a combination of factors."

"Causing what?" came Sir William Bompkins voice, and the other judge told him to 'shh.' But Draco thought four heads were better than two, even if they were oil based ones.

"We're trying to unfreeze everyone," he told them, "any thoughts?" But the paintings were just as stumped as the two students.

"I thought Mandrake Juice would probably work, whatever's causing it, but that's really not an option."

"Why not?" asked Draco.

"We don't have any," replied Hermione simply.

"Okay," said Draco thinking aloud. "What about any spells or charms." Hermione shook her head.

"The thing is, any simple spell or charm that was used in the first place should really have been broken by somebody here or at Hogwarts - I mean we're talking about a lot of powerful wizards and not one of them has been able to snap themselves out of it? It just seems so unlikely…"

She trailed off, hands on hips, looking at nothing in particular.

"So - it must be something else, something different," agreed Draco. "What else have we seen here."

"There's all the water, but Harry did that way after everyone was immobilised. Maybe some kind of poison or-"

"There's an awful lot of bugs," chimed in Judge Bompkins, which earned another reproachful 'shh' from his friend. But something seemed to dawn on Hermione.

"The Wranglers," she said slowly. She was quiet for a moment, her brow furrowed in concentration. "They have a hive mind - a kind of telepathy - lots of insects do." She tapped her finger on her chin and rubbed it. "That's why they're so good at searching for things. Oh I read something…"

Draco thought it over. "Makes sense, but what-"

"They're not regular insects though, are they?" she said excitedly, wringing her hands. "They're magical - so what if their hive minds…don't just link them all together…what if they affect the area around them in some way? I think they might be able to…I don't know, enhance spells or something?" She looked at Draco, her eyes ablaze. "What if that's what's keeping everyone frozen! Oh I wish we'd studied a few more relevant things in Care of Magical Creatures…"

"I did have a colleague once - worked in experimental magic," piped up the lady painting. "She never did like Wranglers handing about, she said it altered results."

Draco turned to the girl beside him, a glint in his eye. "I think we might have something here," he said, but she shook her head.

"How do we stop them all though, there must be hundreds, and so many at the school…" But now it was Draco's turn to shake his head. "You said they were like insects, insects with hive minds - like bees and ants?"

"Yeah," she said slowly.

"Well what do bees and ants also have?"

Hermione frowned for a moment, then suddenly smiled. She turned to face the judges who were looking anxiously on.

"Don't suppose you've seen any _really big _bugs around have you?"

--

Sarah was concentrating very hard on not panicking, but the claustrophobia was really kicking in now. Her hands were bound tightly behind her back once more and her wand had been confiscated. Again. She breathed deeply in and out of her nose and kept her gaze unswerving from that of Narcissa Malfoy's; her father's traitorous friend Peter Pettigrew (or Wormtail as she had come to know him) was stationed between them, his wand levelled and ready.

They were waiting in the corridor just before Courtroom Ten.

Which meant they were underwater.

Voldemort had lazily put some kind of spell on them so they could all breathe whilst submerged and their feet stood comfortably on the floor, but there was a part of Sarah's brain that couldn't help but repeatedly imagine the magic suddenly being taken away and her lungs filling with water. She blinked (her vision also under the spell she assumed) and raised her eyebrows at the older woman. She slowly shook her head, a motion noticeable only by the movement of her shimmering hair, but her meaning was clear.

They just had to wait.

--

Harry looked down at Voldemort and Lucious Malfoy with a fiery hatred that could have melted steal. All hostilities in the room had ceased between the two parties, and all attention was now on the only three figures standing in the open.

"Good Morning Harry," said Voldemort coolly. "So glad you could join us." Lucious couldn't help but smirk. Harry's sore hand tightened on his wand but he remained level headed.

"What do you want Voldemort?" he snapped, not wishing to dilly-dally about with small talk.

"I think it's more a question of what do you want?" retorted the Dark Lord. He turned and called over his shoulder. "Wormtail? I think you can come in now."

A second later Peter Pettigrew stepped through the watery barrier in the front door, ushering Narcissa and Sarah in front of him with a pointed wand. All of them were dripping wet. A fury threatened to burst out of Harry but he managed to cling on to it, reasoning that any wrong move now and both the prisoners would be dead.

"Fine," said Harry, choosing not to directly acknowledge his sister and Draco's mum. "You have something I want, now what is it you want from me?" Voldemort smiled like a snake, contorting his face into and even more menacing shape.

"Before you caused such a ruckus, I was intending on retrieving a prophecy from the vaults of this magnificent building. A prophecy concerning yourself and I." He had laced his fingers behind his back and began slowly pacing the auditorium floor. Harry looked down on him, barely allowing himself to blink.

"Timing is everything Mr Potter, and it seems that now was the only time that you would be able to assist me in me deciphering of the prophecy. But as usual you had your own plans and so here we all are."

Harry's throat went rather dry all of a sudden. "What do you mean about timing?"

Voldemort smiled. "I assume you are familiar with the term 'Dimensional Hotspot?'"

There was a pause where Harry couldn't honestly believe what he'd just heard.

"Oh come on!" he cried, actually lowering his defences and running his hands through his hair. "You cannot be serious? This is to do with a Dimensional Leap - you knew it was coming - _again?_ What - do you guys get a _weather report _or something? Some poor sod stuck in a basement just listening out for idiots like me who land in the wrong parallel universe? This is insane! And what the Hell does jumping dimensions have to do with anything anyway? I'm the heir of Gryffindor - so what!"

Voldemort suddenly aimed his wand at Harry's head and he froze mid rant. Nobody moved.

"_He who misplaces himself shall hold the key, and he shall bring light and power and control to all he sees, all he can imagine. And with great force and acumen he will be the instrument of unity, and the king of all will rule." _

Voldemort smiled his wicked smile once more. "Even with all your trouble we were able to find the prophecy."

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. "That's not the one I heard."

"You boy are the instrument!" cried the Dark Lord and shook his wand at Harry. "You are the one who replaced himself by travelling through the portal at Hogwarts just as you did last year!"

"How did…"

"We know there was a leap and you famously went missing," replied Voldemort, regaining some of his composure, although his wand was still trained on Harry. "It does not take a genius. And now you will act as my key in whatever capacity necessary or I will kill your sister where she stands."

"It's not me though!" Harry cried as the dark wizard's wand swung to aim at the young girl. "Please, you must believe me, I didn't travel through - this is my universe!"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, still looking at Harry. Harry suddenly felt dizzy, he scrunched up his eyes and swayed. He must be reading my mind, he thought, block him out! But he couldn't. Voldemort frowned and several Deatheaters looked scared.

"You are in fact telling the truth," he said thoughtfully. Wormtail looked at his master anxiously.

"What about the girl?" he offered, eager to please. "Isn't she from another reality?" Voldemort didn't even bother looking round to address his minion.

"She has not replaced anybody has she you fool?" he snapped. "The key is somebody who has forced their doppelganger from this plane of existence. There must be another."

"There isn't," cried Sarah, pulling away from Pettigrew. "I came by myself - there's no one else!" Harry closed his eyes in defeat as Voldemort certainly searched her inexperienced mind. A smile appeared for the third time as he found his answer.

"No!" cried Narcissa Malfoy, but the Dark Lord addressed her husband.

"Lucious, I think it's about time we located your son."

--

Draco was walking beside Hermione along the dimly lit corridor, both had their wands raised. They had taken the stairs down to the Second Floor and were following the two paintings to the Menagerie. Draco was not looking forward to seeing what sort of beasties the Ministry liked to keep as pets.

"It's just up here," said the lady who had introduced herself as Elizabeth. "Mildred from down the hall said they made a dreadful disturbance and she heard terrible noises. Poor thing was frightened out of her wits."

Draco didn't blame the painting for being scared. There was an eerie buzz hanging in the air and irregular thumping from all directions.

"I think we can take it from here thanks," said Hermione quietly, her face the colour of ash. The paintings nodded.

"Good luck," Sir William told them. "We'll be here, bellow if you should need assistance." It was the students' turn to nod. The looked at each other, then started walking once again.

"Do you think this'll work?" asked Hermione. Draco's expression was one of grim determination.

"It has to."

They turned a corner, and spotted the Wrangler just in time to duck behind a suit of armour that was luckily right by them. The creature had its back mostly to them and didn't seem to notice. Draco was getting the impression these bugs weren't all that bright. After a minute or so it flew on, leaving the way clear for them to carry on walking.

"This is such a bad idea," said Draco softly. "Does that sting of theirs actually do anything?"

"Paralyses you. Then they cover you in saliva that hardens and drag you back to their hive to add to the food store. Of course you're conscious the whole time until they eat you."

"Right," said Draco, "now I feel loads better."

"You're welcome."

They found themselves at a pair of open double doors, and the buzzing sound was really loud now. "Where are they all?" whispered Hermione. "I can't believe we haven't been seen by a single one yet - there must be hundreds." Draco saw her point and didn't like it. Carefully he edged his head round to look into the room beyond the doors. It wasn't good.

There must have been at least seventy Wranglers in the square atrium; the ground was littered with the remains of magical animals who had once lived in the Menagerie, and the walls and ceiling had sticky, dripping threads connecting to the floor making a kind of bluish lair. But this was not what had caught Draco's attention. In the centre of the room stood a Wrangler three times the size of the regular ones. Its mouth was massive and filled with twice and many pincers and teeth that were apparently chewing on thin air. It had eight legs instead of six and was standing on all but two of them. The gossamer wings would have been beautiful if they weren't on such a hideous monster. There were just some many colours Draco could see even though they were tucked back. The eyes were like black jewels the size of dinner plates. And they were looking directly at Draco. As was every other pair in the room.

"Oh. Crap," was all he could say. Several of the littler bugs made to fly at him, but the Queen inclined her head and they stopped. Telepathy, just like Hermione had said. The big bug obviously wanted this prey herself.

"What's happening?" whispered Hermione anxiously. From the other side of the wall.

"Well," said Draco calmly, "I think it's safe to say that bug from the corridor saw us, warned the rest of them and they've been waiting for us to show up. Which we now have."

"Now what?" she squeaked, barely able to move. The Queen Wrangler opened her impressive wings and rose off the floor with a bass hum to drown out all others.

"That plan, to stop the Queen?" She nodded. "That's pretty much happening NOW!"

Hermione didn't need telling twice. She spun on her heals and ran as fast as her legs would take her. Draco did likewise but in the opposite direction.

"Ohh craap!" he cried, the words escaping from his throat rather than any conscious effort to speak them. He turned left round a corner. "This way! Follow me you big bloody bug!" He risked looking over his shoulder and saw the beast struggling to fly in the small corridor.

"Ha ha - now what you gonna do!" he gloated, but as he turned his head forward once more, fate ensured he didn't get away with the moment of glee. A dozen or so Wranglers were flying at him with their heads down and stings out. Luckily his wand was still out.

"Stupify!" he yelled, but the spell hit with no effect. The hive mind must be able to dampen spells as well as enhance him thought the logical side of his brain. His body wasn't paying attention though, as he dived into a roll and the small bugs shot over his head. He managed to roll back into a run faster than he would have thought possible and kept on going. Once again he chanced a look over his shoulder to see the Queen fighting down the corridor, mauling her fellow insects out of the way, shredding them with her mouth and claws. Draco stopped looking.

Just a bit further he thought as he turned left again.

"Duck!" screamed Hermione, and Draco rolled for the second time in so many minutes. By the time he looked up again the young girl had filled the corridor with what looked like a massive spider's web, much thicker than the webbing the Wranglers themselves had produced in the atrium. Within seconds the Queen flew round the corner looking for her pray, but instead hit straight into the web. A strangled cry escaped from her clawing mouth as she became more and more stuck. As she struggled her beautiful wings became twisted and broken, the webbing wound around her many legs and caught around her throat.

It might have been pitiful if she hadn't been trying to kill them.

"NOW," cried Hermione as she and Draco aimed the same spell at the oversized bug.

"_Expeliamus!"_ The spell worked fine this time with no entourage to dampen it, and the Queen hit the wall and sagged into unconsciousness. Hermione turned her gaze towards Draco, breathing deeply.

"That worked better than I thought," she said. Draco raised his eyebrows and was about to say 'wait and see,' when a flash of orange light made them both jump away and shield their eyes.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, appeared out of thin air a foot or two off the ground right in front of their eyes and dropped deftly to the floor. He seemed only mildly surprised of the sight that met him.

"Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy," he said, blue eyes wide and sparkling. "You appear to be at the Ministry of Magic, when momentarily ago you were at the school."

"We've been here for hours," explained Hermione, shaking her head. "You-Know-Who is here duelling with Harry in Courtroom Ten."

Dumbledore's old face showed the natural alarm this news caused him. He looked at the defeated Wrangler Queen. "I can only assume I was stuck in some sort of apparitional limbo and broke through as soon as possible at the weakest point. Interesting."

"Professor," Hermione said respectfully, "everyone's frozen here too, we don't know how to free them. We need help in the courtroom."

"Yes, that is quite a concern," agreed Dumbledore as he turned from the wreck of an insect and began striding down the corridor, violet robes billowing behind him. Hermione and Draco followed . "I shall have to do something about that I think. Meanwhile I would suggest it a prudent idea for you to return to the Courtroom and help Harry whatever way you can." He spun on his heals as if to face them, but instead apparated out of existence.

"But…you can't apparate within the Ministry," said Hermione, confused.

Draco couldn't help but smile a little. "I think maybe these might be special circumstances. C'mon - let's go help Harry before something really bad happens."

--

This is really, really bad, thought Sarah. Why did she always end up a God damn hostage? Did she give off a damsel in distress vibe? She felt so helpless with that wand trained unflinchingly at her heart. If only she could break free, remove the leverage You-Know-Who had against Harry. But she'd only get smacked with a killing curse in the back and then in would be game over.

Mind you, she reasoned, every single person in this room was probably going to die. It just so happened she would be first, whatever she did to encourage it. She sighed.

Harry looked as if the tension running through his broken body would shortly cause something to snap. He stood resolutely looking down from the balcony, his wand griped by his side, blood drying on his skin. He was so much stronger then the brother she had grown up with thought Sarah, almost guiltily. The pain and suffering that had constituted this Harry's life was what had created this pillar of a man glaring down at their captor. It stirred something in the young girl, an inkling of possibility, of potential she did not want to let go of.

She laughed to herself. There she was, actually worrying about what life would be like when she got home, how different it and she would be. She had actually allowed herself to forget that in all likeliness it was a question of _if _she got home, not when.

Wormtail's grip shifted uncomfortably on her shoulder, but Voldemort looked to be in no discomfort at all as his hand hung lazily in the air, wand pointed at the youngest Potter's heart.

"What do you want from Draco?" said Harry suddenly, making Sarah jump. She looked at her brother, everyone else remained hidden out of sight, not wanting to offer up any more hostages. His eyes blazed.

"Whatever is necessary," replied the Dark Lord without even looking up.

"So you don't actually know how he's the key."

Voldemort took stock of this statement (for it was a statement and not a question) and turned his head slowly to visibly acknowledged the young Gryffindor. "We know he _is _the key."

"Yeah, but not _how_," retorted Harry. What was he doing? thought Sarah, becoming slightly panicky. Why aggravate the situation any more than it already is?

Voldemort actually smiled a little. "A modicum of experimentation is rarely avoidable in these situations. And it would be a shame to deprive one of such an opportunity at any rate."

It was Harry's turn to smile now. "You want to torture Draco? Fine. I'm warning you now you'll have to go through me."

"You," said Voldemort, almost bored. "You who are both surrounded and outnumbered? The outlandishness of Gryffindor never ceases to amaze me."

"You always say that," said Harry with simple arrogance.

Sarah couldn't help but groan inwardly. On review, she thought, I'll take my own idiot brother back.

--

Draco and Hermione were edging nervously along a corridor on the second floor, heading back towards the staircases and the way they'd come. They'd sent the painting's after Dumbledore in the hopes they would be able to return with a progress report of some kind. But really the two students had wanted a little peace and quiet.

"Do you think Harry and the others are alright?" said Hermione quietly after they rounded yet another corner.

Draco thought before answering. He honestly wanted to say 'yes' - that's what his instincts told him after everything he'd witnessed last November in Germany. But the practicality of so many foes in such a cornered space made him doubt. He tried not to let the moment hang too long.

"I'm sure they're fine," he said over his shoulder to where she was following him. "I still want to get there as soon as humanly possible, but I honestly don't think they'll be dead when we arrive."

Hermione managed a nervous laugh.

They progressed steadily, and without getting lost which made a refreshing change for the night. But something was wrong. Draco couldn't put his finger on it but there was a taste in the air, or something equally vague that was keeping the hair on his neck tingly. Old reservations meant he'd kept this hunch to himself, but he realised they needed to carry on working as a team if they were going to remain in one piece.

"Hermione," he said slowly. "I think there maybe something odd going on here."

He took a full four more steps along the hall before realisation hit that something was horribly wrong indeed. The young boy stopped, his wand firmly held in his hand. "Hermione?"

He turned, body and mind braced for what he might see, but the reality was actually far worse. There in the middle of the corridor was Hermione Granger, frozen stiff with an all too familiar look of terror on her tired but lovely face. And holding onto her neck with a gloved hand and look of sickening arrogance on his face was Lucious Malfoy. Draco's father; in this world at any rate.

Draco remained remarkably calm. "Get. Your hands. Off her," he said, voice steady, but eyes flaring with unrestrained hate.

"I understand that you are not in fact my son," began Lucious, "but you are a Malfoy of some description. Why such concern for a filthy little mudblood?"

He was taunting him. He spoke with that same resounding, insufferable superiority that he always had, goading for trouble. A part of Draco was suddenly nine years old again, and it threatened to let the old sensation of shame and insecurity creep inside his belly and take over, but he refused.

"My name," he said through clenched teeth, "is Draco. And if you touch that girl in any way I swear by Merlin himself I will end you."

Lucious did not look pleased. "What have you done with my son?" he snapped. "Where is the true Draco Malfoy?"

"I have no idea," said the boy honestly. "And I won't bargain anyway. You've got one last chance to let her go." Lucious laughed.

"Oh no, there's a little of you in there after all Draco, a little Malfoy left to fight."

"Call me a Malfoy again, I dare you." Draco spoke very quietly. Luscious straightened and shook his long blond hair.

"I have not seized this girl in an attempt to ascertain the whereabouts of the real Draco," he said formally. He removed his own wand from within his robes and flexed gloved fingers around it pointedly. "You are to come to the lowest courtroom and serve our Lord in whatever way he wishes, or I will end this mudblood's life faster than you can blink."

Something cold slipped down Draco's throat. "What does Voldemort want with me?"

Lucious smirked. "You'll have to wait-"

But Draco didn't want to wait. As quick as a flash he brought his wand up and lashed out an old spell before his father had even finished the word.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!" _he roared, and Lucious went flying back several feet, his wand in the opposite direction. Hermione stood exactly where she had been for the last few minutes, a look of shock on her face. Draco ran to her and grabbed her shoulders.

"Are you alright?" he gasped. She barely nodded before he let go and stormed over to where his dazed father lay. ""You," he barked, "sit up and start talking."

Lucious looked too furious to still actually be existing as a human being. Slowly he pulled himself off the wooden floor and sat looking at his son.

"What would you like me to talk about?" he said icily.

"Why does Voldemort need me?"

"To fulfil the prophecy," replied the elder Malfoy, something dancing in his eyes. "You're the key."

"But - I thought the prophecy was about Harry," said Hermione as she came and stood beside Draco, Lucious' wand in her hand.

Lucious took the briefest of moments to look at the two youngsters. "It was about Harry," he agreed, "but now Draco will have to do instead."

"Why?" asked the Gryffindor girl.

"Because Harry Potter is dead."

Draco heard his friend take in a sharp breath of shock, but he merely narrowed his eyes. "He's lying," he said simply, not taking his eyes away from the older man.

"How do you-"

"He's exactly like my own father," interrupted Draco. He crouched down, wand pointed at Lucious' chest. "Enough games," said softly. "Tell me about the prophecy, or I will share the delightful curse you taught we when I was eleven and shatter all your fingers one by one. And that's just for starters."

"You wouldn't," said Lucious with eyes little more than slits. Draco blinked.

"Doigtest Imparum," he whispered with a flick of the wrist. Lucious let out a scream of pain and grabbed his right hand, the index finger hanging rather limply.

Hermione gasped for the second time in so many minutes and put her hand on Draco's shoulder. "What are you doing?" she cried shakily. Draco didn't look at her, but instead took his father's face firmly in his grasp and made their eyes meet.

"Believe me when I tell you I will do anything to save my friends, and there is no one on this Earth I despise more than you."

They looked at each other, involuntary tears pricking at the older man's eyes from the pain. He clenched his jaw and bared his teeth.

"The Dark Lord needs someone who has crossed universes and replaced their counterpart to act as a key."

"A key to what?"

"Power."

Draco knew he wasn't going to get any more than that. He felt sickened by what he'd had to do, but the thought of loosing all his friends made him feel sicker still.

"We have to hurry," said Draco, standing up. He looked at Hermione's ash like face. "We won't have much time."

"Are you going to kill me then?" asked Lucious from his position on the floor, grasping his damaged hand.

Draco looked at him. He's taunting me again, he thought.

"No father, I'm not going to kill you." Draco paused. "I'm better than that."

Lucious actually laughed. "What a pity," he said, a cruel smile on his face despite the pain he must have still been in. "For a brief, shining moment I thought I'd been proved wrong, but there really is nothing worthy of a Malfoy in you."

In one swift movement, Draco stuck the older man across the face, bashing his head into the wall and knocking him clean out.

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me father."

--

They were almost back at Courtroom Seven and Hermione still hadn't said a word. Draco kept going over what he'd done in his mind and he was pretty sure he was going to vomit. He knew why he'd done it, he knew he was trying to save his friends, but he'd gone so _far._ It had taken no time at all for his father to turn him into the monster he'd sworn for the last four years he would never, ever turn into. What must Hermione think?

"Look," he said, grabbing her just as she was going to walk into the smaller courtroom. "Look, I need thirty seconds to explain-"

"You don't need to explain," said the girl, cutting him off.

He was surprised. "I don't?"

She shook her head. "I…I don't like what I just saw. At all. It was callous and vile, but…" She took a deep breath. "I know it had to be done; we had to save ourselves and the others and he's an evil man. It doesn't make it right but…" She bit her lip. "I don't think it makes you evil, because you know how evil it was." She put her hand on top of Draco's own. "I couldn't have done it."

"I'm really glad to hear it," said Draco, a million thoughts rushing through his head. He shook it, as if to sort them out.

"We need to hurry."

They ran into the dripping wet courtroom, splashing through puddles as they darted back into the secret passageway. They emerged the other end and Draco immediately stopped. Courtroom Ten was frighteningly quiet.

Hermione twigged straight away that something was even more wrong than it should have been and stopped right behind him. The two exchanged glances, then very slowly peered between the seats and down into the auditorium to see what was happening.

Harry was standing still as a statue at the bottom of the balcony by the barrier, looking down at Voldemort. The evilest of wizards had his wand trained onto Sarah Potter, who was being held by Wormtail. Draco's mother Narcissa stood by the girl, Voldemort's wand obviously only a flick away from her own heart as well. Most of Draco and Harry's friends could be seen crouching behind the barrier, and the other Deatheaters were presumably doing the same on the other side. There were half a dozen or so motionless figures scattered about the place. It did not look good.

"Luscious should have been back now," said Voldemort, almost casually to Harry. "Hold her," he said to Wormtail, and then took the wand away from her chest and pointed it at his throat.

"Lucious, I wish you to report back," he said, his voice booming around the entire Ministry. He waited. "You have thirty seconds."

"Until what?" cried Harry. "Until WHAT?" Unsurprisingly Voldemort did not answer. He was no longer smiling or calm anymore either. It was as if a storm was brewing above their heads and lightening would strike at any moment.

"Ten seconds. Whoever is responsible has less than ten seconds to respond, or I will take the life of Sarah Potter."

"_NO!"_

The word was screamed by several people at once. Harry, as he unsheathed his wand and vaulted over the barrier into the auditorium. Draco, as he stood up and revealed his and Hermione's hiding position without even thinking. Sarah, as she tore from Wormtail's grip and flung herself towards her brother. And Narcissa Malfoy, who raced to where Sarah was freeing herself in order to do the same thing. Everything happened so fast.

Draco had almost reached the barrier when the flash of green light filled the air and stopped him in his tracks. He blinked, trying to regain his vision, not caring how exposed he was. Light like that could only mean one thing.

Numbly, the blond boy walked the last few steps down and looked into the well of the auditorium. Harry was holding onto his sister; they both turned their heads and looked at where Narcissa's body lay limply on the cold stone floor.

Draco swayed, the blood rushing from his head. His wand almost slipped from his fingers, but he managed to hang on. Not again, it couldn't have happened again.

But it had.

His mother had died again, trying to protect those more vulnerable around her. Draco felt an explosion from somewhere within; he felt it rip through his body and tear into his soul as the fury he had barely been containing with his father was unleashed.

"_I'm going to FUCKING KILL YOU!"_

_--_

Harry snapped his gaze from the dead body of Narcissa Malfoy to above his head, where her son Draco was leaping over the balcony barrier into the auditorium well, spells already firing from his wand.

All Hell broke loose. The dozen or so Deatheaters and Harry's companions jumped from their hiding places and started duelling just as intensely, if not worse than before. Harry pulled the table over to give him and his sister some cover and started trying to help his friends.

Voldemort had deflected Draco's curses easily, and now they were duelling, the older wizard toying with the boy whose tears were streaming down his face.

"Stay here," hissed Harry to his sister and leapt to his friend's aid.

"I will not," said Sarah petulantly, and scuttled out into the fray, looking to retrieve her wand from Wormtail.

Harry threw all he could at Voldemort, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he aimed Aveda Kedavra at all of them. Sirius joined in the fight, and for a fleeting second it looked as if they might be winning.

Suddenly Voldemort screamed "_no! I need him alive!"_ But the overweight woman who had almost executed Sirius already let her spell go. A blinding light hit Draco square on and sent him flying across the floor, and he hit the wall in a crumpled, unmoving heap.

This time, it was Hermione's cry of _"NO!" _Harry heard as she came running down the stairs and started throwing a variety of vicious curses at the woman. There was so much carnage going on; Ron and Tonks were working together against a group of Deatheaters, the number fallen had grown and Sarah was even fighting with Wormtail to reclaim her stolen wand. Before Harry could even think about helping Remus had jumped in, and the boy who lived turned his attention back to Draco and Voldemort. The Dark wizard had disappeared though, and Sirius was sprinting in the direction of the main door.

Harry was just going to follow when his and Sirius' way was blocked. Albus Dumbledore, flanked by maybe two dozen Ministry officials came tearing into the room and into the fight. Harry and his Godfather stopped dead as the irate crown hared past them, firing disarming spells at the Deatheaters who had neither fallen nor fled yet.

The anarchy was over just as quickly as it had started. Harry spun around and did a quick head count to make sure none of his other friends had been hit. Tonks was helping Ron with a gash on his head but he was still conscious. Everyone else was still standing.

He looked over to where Draco was still crumpled by the wall, and ran to him, Hermione close on his heals. He fell to his knees and scooped up his limp frame in aching arms. "Draco?" he cried helplessly.

"Draco?"

--

The light was hurting his eyes. Everything was so bright and quiet it was unnerving in his disorientated state. He scrunched up his eyelids to try and ease the ache but it did nothing. His mouth was dry and his tongue numb as he tried to run it across his lips. He couldn't feel his body.

Slowly, Draco Malfoy opened his sore and tired eyes. His fingers grasped at crisp white bed sheets and his face was plastered to a starched pillowcase. The sunshine of an Indian Summer spilled through the large windows behind him, and as his vision slowly came into focus he realised he was in the medical wing at Hogwarts. He'd made it.

He let out a breath that made his lungs hurt, but the pain was okay. Slowly the sensation came back into his body, and after a minute or two he was able to reach out to the glass of water on the bedside cabinet and take a sip.

How long had he been sleeping? What had happened at the Ministry - were the others okay? He wanted to jump out of bed and find out, but his legs simply wouldn't let him. He rolled over slowly and was surprised to see a bunch of flowers on the other cabinet addressed to him. It didn't say who they were from.

Where was Voldemort? The memory of his mother's last moments of life were coming back to him, pumping blood back into his battered limbs. With great effort he managed to haul himself into a sitting position and grabbed the water again, downing the whole lot in painful gulps. He couldn't just sit here, no matter how much his body protested.

Thankfully his dilemma was solved for him, as at that moment Sarah Potter came clumsily through the door, balancing a plate of food and a book with a cracked cover.

"Draco!" she screamed upon seeing him awake, and ran over to his bed, the content of her hands thrown onto his bed as she flung her arms around him in a tight embrace.

"We were starting to worry you'd never wake up."

Draco patted her on the back for a moment. "Um - I'm kind of broken," he said after a moment more.

"Sorry!" she cried, snatching her arms back, a massive grin on her face. "I'll get the others - you must be starving - have my sandwiches and I'll get more."

She made to dart back out the door, but Draco called after her. "How long have I been asleep?"

She stopped. "Three days, you got hit pretty bad." She made to go once more, but Draco called her back yet again.

"Hang on Sarah!" he cried, not unkindly. "Is everyone okay?"

"Oh - yeah, sorry." She walked back to the end of his bed and caught her breath. "Everyone's fine, even the people who were frozen, they were all okay." She smiled. "Oh - and Hermione worked with Dumbledore, and they've done the potion to send us home - isn't that great?" She beamed and Draco put on his best happy face; he wasn't very practiced at them.

"Yeah…yeah that's great Sarah. Really great." She didn't seem to notice his lack of enthusiasm, and she spun on her heals and marched towards the door for the third time. "Sarah - just one more question?"

She stopped and leant on the door frame. "Of course," she replied kindly.

He paused. "What happened to Voldemort?"

The bright expression on her face dimmed somewhat and she shrugged her shoulders. "Escaped," she said simply. "And your dad - gone without a trace."

Draco took a moment to absorb this; he thought as much but it was still a blow to have it confirmed.

"Thanks Sarah," he said, and finally let the young Potter leave.

He leant over and put her lunch and book on the floor, before shuffling painfully back down in the bed. He then decided against it and kicked the duvet off, the summer heat making him sweat all over. He realised for the first time he was only wearing his jeans, and it was good to feel a slight breeze on his torso. Thunder rumbled softly in the distance.

His head was pounding again, worse than when he'd crossed over, and he rubbed it in frustration. Maybe his body was screaming at him from a lack of nutrition, so he rolled over and grabbed one of the cheese and ham sandwiches. It made him feel a little better.

So, him and Sarah were going home? He munched the bread between his teeth thoughtfully. He thought he might have been more excited, but something squirmed in the pit of his stomach. What if it went wrong and they died, or disappeared into whatever nothingness he'd forced his own alter ego to go to. What if they did get back and everyone accused him of kidnapping Sarah.

What if Hermione thought that. What if she wanted nothing to do with him, it had all been some kind of mistake and he was all on his own again? He didn't know if he could take that.

Oh God damn it man, he thought sternly. Pull yourself together. You can't lie here and mope, whatever's going to happen will happen. Hermione and Dumbledore will undoubtedly have the potion right, Sarah will be able to testify she wasn't kidnapped, and Hermione, well…whatever happens happens.

He rolled over onto his back again and looked at the ceiling. I wonder if I could go for a run, he thought nonchalantly.

--

Even after mentally kicking himself up the arse, Draco still couldn't help he was walking to a death sentence as Hermione and Sarah took him to the History of Magic classroom. His head was hurting still, but it was more the impending doom of the unknown that was getting him down. The Indian Summer seemed to be brewing a storm that was growling in the distance; it didn't improve Draco's mood.

Hermione was talking animatedly to them both about how difficult it had been to make the potion and how they were lucky a certain ingredient had been in season, but Draco wasn't listening. He didn't think Sarah was either. Even if all his previous concerns turned out to be okay, he was still leaving behind Harry, the best friend he'd ever had. He'd dealt with it before and he'd deal with it again, but it didn't mean he'd have to like it.

They reached the classroom much sooner than Draco would have liked and Sarah walked straight in a determined look on her face. Draco, however, made a split second decision and grabbed Hermione to one side, calling "just a second" after the youngest Potter.

Hermione looked quizzically at the blond boy who was still holding her by the shoulders. He didn't want her to think he was holding her there against her will, but he was honestly worried about letting her go. He took a deep breath.

"Look," he started. "A lot happened to us that night and some of it wasn't great."

"I know," she said kindly, just like she had done down in Courtroom Seven. She put her hands on his. "It's okay."

He shook his head. "It's just…it's just that when I leave, the other Draco will come back and I…" he faltered, lost for words. "I wanted you to remember me, this me, not him. It's…well I guess it's important to me that you do."

In case I don't get home, he added mentally. At least one Hermione will know everything.

He moved his hands and took hers gently, his eyes not moving from her own. "Goodbye Hermione Granger," he said softly, and leant in to kiss her.

It was just how he remembered, it was hard to believe that it hadn't even been a week since him and his Hermione had stood under the stars at the top of his secret tower. It felt so warm and safe, so strong and electric.

He broke away before he became too involved. He wouldn't have been able to leave at all otherwise. He walked through the classroom door and nodded to Harry, Sarah and Ron who were discussing the enchanted parchment in the young girl's hands. He stood near the window, arms folded and gaze unfixed as a rather flustered looking Hermione came into the room as well, closing the door behind her.

"Right," she said, "um - right then. Sarah you and - well you and Draco need to hold the parchment by the window - we'll stand back and activate it, and in theory that should send you home." She had her wand nervously in her fingers and she held Draco's gaze a little too long as he walked over to Harry's sister.

"Doesn't sound too hard," he said, trying to lighten the mood. He turned his eyes from Hermione to a stoic looking Harry, and the two shared a brotherly embrace.

"Take care Draco," said Harry as they broke apart. There wasn't really much else to say. Ron and Draco shook hands as Harry hugged his sister, and then once more he was faced with Hermione.

"Goodbye," he whispered for a second time, and gave her a brief hug. He just wanted to get this over with now.

Sarah walked over to the window and Draco joined her. Hermione had her wand out but she seemed too genuinely upset to do the spell, like opening her mouth would start her crying and she desperately didn't want to.

"Let me do it Hermione," said Harry kindly. The spell wasn't hard, Sirius had done it for him when he'd travelled back in a matter of moments.

As Harry spoke the enchanted words, the storm that was brewing in the distance minutes before suddenly whipped around the grounds of Hogwarts. The building started to shake and Draco and Sarah struggled to hold onto the letter. "C'mon," growled Draco under his breath. "C'mon just _do it."_

The storm was more like a tempest, the floor beneath them like an earthquake, the air was hot, like it was on fire.

All Draco heard was Hermione cry _"Harry?!"_

With an incredible roar of thunder the glass window shattered in every direction, lightening crashed down with blinding force and the wind howled drowning all else out. Draco was thrown to the floor, and he tried to shield his eyes from the light.

Then everything was still.

Carefully, Draco lowered his arm from his face and blinked at the sight before him. He'd been knocked back to the door of the classroom, and Sarah Potter was beside him. Glass glittered everywhere and a gentle breeze blew through the gaping hole in the wall that was once a window. Slowly, Draco stood and brushed the glass from his clothes; Sarah did the same. The two students looked dumbstruck around the chaotic room as the enchanted parchment was caught by a zephyr and fluttered away.

There was no one else in the room. It was just the two of them left. Draco's heart caught in his mouth as he looked around the four walls, at Sarah standing beside him, at the remains of the window before them.

"Oh. Crap."

The End


End file.
